Something Just Like This
by JumptheThunder
Summary: We are going off canon from just after Regina shares her light/darkness with the Evil Queen and Hook leaves Emma. What unfolds is a story of three women learning to believe in true second (or third) chances and learning to open up to love in a way they had never thought possible. It won't be easy but maybe, just maybe, it can save them all.
1. Chapter 1-2:30am

The house was quiet. Really, really fucking quiet. The only noises keeping her company were the obnoxiously echoing footfalls and the creaking floorboards beneath them as she paced back and forth in her as yet hardly lived in living room. Nothing about this place felt warm or homey, instead it was like a model home meant to be shown and not used (in fact, now that she thought about it, the whole place looked remarkably like one she'd seen in some home design magazine in her social worker's waiting room as a child. It had always seemed rather cruel to her that that office was jam packed with magazines about dream homes when it's business was in children without any home at all). The clock on the mantel chimed, causing her to very nearly jump out of her skin, and reminding her that it was now half past 2 in the morning and Hook was still gone. She knew he wasn't coming back, the rucksack missing from the hall closet, along with his favorite short sword, his long leather jacket that he'd hardly worn since arriving in Storybrooke and adjusting his fashion sense, and her engagement ring all told her that he was gone, likely for good. Hook had run, vanished, and though her heart felt like it might actually be splitting in half, a very small voice in the back of her mind whispered "finally", not that she was even slightly prepared to deal with what that meant at the moment.

Taking one last look at the clock, now reading 2:45am, she sighed, stomping her feet rather like a petulant child as she trudged over to the closet, shucked the damn woolen coat she'd been wearing for who knows what reason, and reached into the far back to pull out the familiar, warm red leather that felt more like home than this house ever could. Once wrapped in its protective warmth, she flung open the door and headed out into the crisp evening, not bothering to shut it behind her and she stormed down the walkway.

20 minutes later and she found herself at the only place that felt like a real home to her, the place she knew was filled with warmth and meals cooked from scratch and so much love it was nearly bursting through the walls. A shake of her head and a crooked, semi-downturned smile accompanied the memory of when she had once thought of this place as cold and sterile, how very wrong she had been. She made it to the large white door before pausing, hand poised to knock when she was struck with the feeling that she didn't have to. And rightly so, within seconds the entryway was illuminated and the door was swinging open.

"Savior." One arm held the door open while the other remained on the doorframe, hips confidently tilted to one side and eyebrow cocked in a silent question.

"Regina..." she started before being cut off abruptly, a hand held up to silence her.

"Not quite," the woman in the doorway looked back over her shoulder before calling deeper into the house, "Regina, dear, it seems you have a visitor."

She felt a jolt run up her spine, her shoulders tensing as she recognized the person before her for who she was, the Evil Queen. But almost as suddenly as the tension arrived, she felt it ebb slightly as Regina herself appeared behind the Queen, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and moving her out of the way, concern etched across her features.

"Emma? What is it?"

Before she could manage a word, and with two sets of deep brown eyes staring at her with nearly equal amounts of concern (to see that look from both women was something she really didn't have the energy to try to figure out right now), she burst into tears, the sobs tearing from her throat with an intensity that robbed her of her breath and left her staggering forward, hands on her knees in a desperate attempt to stay on her feet. When she felt hands on both of her elbows she was powerless to resist them. In fact, she was grateful to surrender to them and allow herself to be led. They guided her gently over the threshold and towards the study, settling her on the couch, rubbing circles on her back and pulling her hair free from its ever-present ponytail so that tender fingers could thread through it, massaging her scalp while quiet words of reassurance were murmured surprisingly close to her ears. The last thing she remembered, how long after she had arrived she couldn't say, was her eyes drifting shut, her head held reverently in a warm lap while one of the two women who's mercy she had found herself at draped a blanket over her, tucking it in around her feet and gently patting them before leaving her alone with the one whose thigh she had turned into a pillow and wandering off somewhere else in the mansion.

"R'gina?" she muttered, her face turned towards the body of the other woman and her words muffled by equal parts exhaustion and soft cashmere against her lips.

"It's me, Emma. Just sleep. We'll talk in the morning". A hand returned to her hair, stroking her head ever-so-softly, and for once Emma Swan simply followed direction and did as she was told, allowing her mind and body to slip into a deep, and desperately needed, sleep.


	2. Chapter 2-Morning

When Regina woke up it was with a sharp pain in her neck and both of her feet completely numb, their circulation having apparently been compromised by the weight resting atop her lap and the extraordinarily awkward angle of her body. Gingerly, she raised her head from the horrendous position it had found itself in while she slept, her neck muscles protesting even her slow, careful movements. It was going to take more than a hot shower to work out these kinks. Before she could dwell on her physical aches and pains too much, the memories of the utterly unexpected events of the previous evening came swimming back into the forefront of her mind. Almost instantly she felt a headache coming on, joining her existing list of ailments, only to be nearly forgotten when her still sleep bleary eyes settled on the long, blonde hair draped across her lap, a pale face nuzzled into her stomach and arms wrapped around her waist and gripping her with surprising strength despite the deep slumber their owner seemed to still be in.

"She's hardly moved all night, neither have you." She jerked slightly in surprise at the sound of her own voice, though ever so slightly deeper, coming from somewhere behind her left shoulder, causing a grumpy little groan to be emitted from the woman in her lap.

"If you insist on sneaking around like that I'm going to have to put a bell on you, Queenie." Regina grumbled, turning her gaze to watch as her no-longer that much darker self rounded the corner of the sofa and came fully into view.

"Sorry Dear, old habits I suppose." The Queen spoke with a casual wave of her hand and a smile dancing on her lips before her eyes fell on the sleeping savior and filled with a mix of kindness and confusion. "She was certainly in a state last night, what do you think that was about?"

Regina cocked her head to the side, considering the question and the distressed expression on the face of the woman clutching her like she was all that was keeping her from floating away.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think it's about me, or us? We never did get the chance to tell her we'd...resolved things. Last she knew you were heading off to face your near certain demise at my hand." The Queen settled herself into the seat across the coffee table from them looking more than a little uncomfortable in what Regina only just now realized were her pajamas. She didn't seem able to sit still, her back was ram-rod straight, her legs crossed, and she kept pulling down on the satin button up top as if it were a corseted waistcoat.

"Hey." Regina caught her other half's line of sight and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Relax. I know this is all...new for you, but we'll figure it out." The Queen responded with a look that said she wasn't so sure, be she stilled her fidgeting fingers and leaned back in her seat ever so slightly. Regina returned her eyes to her lap and considered her next move for a moment before placing her hand on Emma's shoulder and giving a gentle shake, earning another grumble in response. She tried again, with a hint more force. "Come on Princess, time to wake up."

"Don't call me Princess" Emma's right eye peaked open to look at her. Regina chuckled.

"I promise not to do it again if you sit up this instant so I can begin restoring feeling to my feet." In a flash Emma's face went from casually grumpy to deer in the headlights as she became fully aware of her current position, and she rocketed up to her feet with such force that she banged the back of her calves into the coffee table and nearly tipped backwards over it before, with a subtle flick of her fingers, the Queen sent a bolt of magic to steady her. Emma whipped around, only just noticing the other woman in the room.

"Regina?!" She squeaked, hands coming up defensively, the glow of her magic already sparking across her fingertips. The Queen resisted the urge to stand and defend herself, but Regina noticed the way her hands had moved to the armrests, her grip so hard it turned her knuckles white.

"Emma wait." Regina stood, less than steady on her still tingling feet, and reached out a hand to wrap around Emma's upper arm. "It's ok. She's not...well, she's not the Evil Queen anymore. Not really."

"What?" Emma glanced over her shoulder at Regina looking utterly confused and like she was more than a little certain that Regina might have lost her mind. The Queen stood but didn't come closer, not wanting to tempt the Savior into firing off any of that pesky light magic in her direction.

"It's true, Emma." Emma whipped her head back to face her, her hands raising just a tad higher as she moved back a bit and placed herself between Regina and the Queen, poised to attack and defend her friend from the doppelganger who had spent the past couple of months trying her best to take her down. The Queen clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself not to go with her first instinct which so very much wanted to see her throw the Savior against the far wall, and instead awaited what she was sure was going to be a less than pleasant blast from the glimmering hands before her. But instead of launching some sort of attack, Emma began observing her with an intensity she had to fight not to squirm under, before cautiously lowering her hands.

"You're not, are you? The _Evil_ Queen, I mean..." Emma was still staring at her as if trying to decipher a secret code as she spoke. "So what, you're just...?" The Queen bowed her head, tucking one leg behind the other and flourishing one arm out in front of herself while the other was bent and placed behind her back as she dipped into a shallow curtsy.

"Queen Regina Mills if you please, Princess." Watching from behind Emma, Regina couldn't help but cup her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her amusement at the sight of the once fearsome Queen bowing to her former enemy's daughter while wearing a set of grey satin pajamas. Emma let out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand up to run through her hair.

"Great, now I get to deal with two of you pushing my buttons."

"So that's it? You just...believe me?" The Queen looked shocked, and perhaps a little annoyed, that her literal change of heart was so readily accepted. Emma threw a look over her shoulder towards Regina before turning back and locking eyes with the Queen and shrugging.

"Well, yeah. Of course I believe you. You're Regina. You're my best friend." At that the Queen's jaw dropped almost comically, her hand fluttering to her stomach the way it did when she was feeling off-kilter. Regina finally lost her battle against the laughter she'd been stifling and the resulting giggle that broke forth was so unlike her that it only made her laugh harder. Emma's lips spread into a grin more genuine than had graced her face in months at that, watching as Regina attempted to compose herself and her other half tried to get her bearings on the whole situation.

As the duplicates pulled themselves together, the weight of the previous day found its way back to Emma shoulders and she felt her smile fall, replaced by her near omnipresent scowl and pinched brow. Regina saw the shift first, moving closer and again placing a hand almost hesitantly on Emma's shoulder. They stood in silence for a moment, the Queen looking at a loss for how she could help and Emma refusing to make eye contact with anything other than her sock-clad feet. It was Regina who broke the silence.

"Breakfast first. Then we can all get freshened up. Then we can talk." Emma gave her a grateful quirking of her lips and a nod of agreement, Regina knew she always felt at least a little better after a good meal. As the Queen exited the room, heading for the kitchen to start in on cooking Emma's favorite meal of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Regina hung back, catching Emma's hand in her own and drawing her attention. "Whatever it is, Emma, I'm here for you. We'll figure it out. Together." She punctuated the last word with a gentle squeeze to the colder than they should be fingers clasped in her own.

"Thanks Regina. For last night, and this, and, well, just thanks."

"Of course."

"Regina?"

"Yes?"

"You do realize I'm gonna need more of an explanation about your evil twin, right?"

"She hardly evil, Emma. Not anymore. Or, not any more-so than I was when you first got here." Emma snorted at that.

"Oh goody, should I expect any showdowns with "Madame Mayor" in my future" Her exaggerated air quotes earned her a hearty eye roll from Regina before she gracefully turned on her heel and strutted out of the study, calling back to Emma,

"Not unless you do something as ill-advised as attacking an innocent fruit tree with a chain saw, Dear."

Again Emma found herself grinning despite the ache pounding away in her chest with every heart beat. She took a moment to remove her jacket, having apparently fallen asleep in it the night before, and folded both it and the blanket she'd woken up under neatly, placing them in a small pile on the far end of the sofa. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked every bit as horrible as the past 24 hours had made her feel, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough try to do anything about it. Besides, there was no one around to impress. Normally she felt the need to try to at least look like she'd attempted to put some effort into her appearance when she was around the always photo-shoot ready Regina (though after everything they'd been through she wasn't sure why she bothered, Regina had no doubt seen her at her worst by now), but today was different. Afterall, one Regina was make-up less and wearing pajamas while the other was in the now extremely rumpled outfit she'd been wearing the day before, an outfit that Emma was fairly certain she'd drooled on in her sleep, so it wasn't like they were looking their usual polished selves either.

Upon entering the kitchen Emma found the two women, nearly identical except for the hair that, once out of her ridiculous up-dos, fell all the way down the Queen's back and well past her waist, working in perfect sync with one another, passing ingredients back and forth without so much as a word between them. A mug of coffee, which she knew was made just the way she liked it (strong, with a hearty scoop of hot cocoa mix added, a splash of half & half, a large swirl of whipped cream, and, of course, a dash of cinnamon to top it all off) was waiting in her favorite mug of Regina's (an old white mug with a couple of chips along the rim, painted with two bright blue handprints belonging to the then 4 year old Henry and the word "Mommy" scrawled in now fading yellow toddler scribble). She took the first sip gratefully, the warm liquid sliding down her throat as she closed her eyes and breathed in the comforting scents of food being prepared, the cinnamon from her coffee tickling her nose and reminding her of the way Regina's home always seemed to smell like fall to her. She remained as she was, drawing a sense of security from this home that had somehow become the most consistent and reliable place in her entire life. When she opened her eyes again and was reminded that there were now not one but two copies of her best friend bustling about the kitchen, a thought struck Emma that was possibly the least important thing to ask given this whole perplexing situation, but was also the only thing she had the brain power to handle contemplating just then.

"What I am supposed to call you?" Both women turned to regard her with matching questioning looks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she's not "evil" anymore then I can't called her "The Evil Queen". And having two of you around is going to be confusing enough without calling both of you Regina." The women looked at each other, seeming to ponder the question before they each turned back to her, heads tilted to one side and brows furrowed in dual looks of contemplation. The Queen spoke first as she turned back to the pancake batter sitting on the counter next to the stove and began to whisk it into a perfectly smooth, aerated concoction with practiced ease.

"I suppose, seeing as I am still a Queen, evil or not, you may refer to me as Your Majesty."

There was complete silence, save for the sound of the metal whisk clinking against the glass mixing bowl, for about 5 seconds before a burst of laughter spluttered from Emma's lips, spewing her most recent sip of coffee across the kitchen island and earning her another eye role and a dish towel tossed at her by Regina, who remained leaning with her back against the sink and her own coffee cradled in one of her hands and held against her chest. After wiping the coffee from the counter, and the dribbles that were running down her chin, Emma lobbed the towel playfully back at Regina who caught it effortlessly with her free hand.

"Look lady, you may have been royalty back in your land but there is no way I'm calling you Majesty." A disgruntled huff came from the woman at the stove before the first batch of pancakes began sizzling quietly in the pan and she turned to face Emma and Regina, looking more than a little offended.

"What do you propose, Miss Swan? Because, though I'm sure you don't see me as such, I am as much Regina as she is so I hardly think she has any more claim to the name than I do." Her head jerked towards the other Regina though she refused to look her way, and Emma could see the armor coming up around the Queen as she readied herself to be rejected, laughed at, or told she would never be the "real" Regina. Emma simply shrugged, hopping up to sit on the island, seeing out of the corner of her vision Regina's eyes narrow in frustration at her actions, having told her time and time again to sit in a chair like an adult rather than on the food prep surfaces. Before Regina could scold her, Emma pointed directly at her.

"Gina." And then her finger moved to point at the Queen,

"Regina."

"Excuse me?" Both women seemed slightly exasperated, the Queen looking more than a little surprised, and Regina looking slightly annoyed at her new nickname. Emma repeated her motions, pointing to Regina, then the Queen, her movements punctuated by the same almost shy, slightly crooked and oh so annoyingly endearing smile that she'd worn one fateful night many years previous.

"Gina, Regina. Simple."

Before she could duck, two dish towels were flying at her, one the same damp one from the sink that she'd cleaned up her coffee with, the other ever so slightly warm from having been resting near the stove.

"Idiot" echoed in stereo as both towels hit their mark, smacking her gently in the face.


	3. Chapter 3-Dynamics

Breakfast had been delicious, as it always was when Regina cooked, and the quiet while they ate was only half as awkward as it could have been considering the new dynamic between the three of them. The Queen, or Regina, as she had been dubbed be her apparent new best friend, was clearly the most uncomfortable with the whole set up, having never in her life shared a pleasant meal with family. Between the tinniest bites of her pancake, which she insisted on cutting up with a knife and fork and dipping delicately into a small bowl of syrup rather than slathering them in the sweet liquid and whipped cream and taking large chunks into her mouth the way Emma did, or buttering them lightly and adding fresh fruit before cutting off double layered triangles with just her fork the way Regina-or rather Gina-did, she kept glancing between them furtively and twitching in her seat. A hand landed on her thigh, stilling her and instantly causing the voice of her long-dead mother to sound from the recesses of her mind.

 _"Stop fidgeting Regina. A Queen does not show discomfort. You will sit still this instant or I will give you a reason to remember your manners."_

The soft touch on her thigh was a stark contrast to the once cold fingers, often feeling more like talons as they would dig mercilessly into tender flesh. A gentle squeeze pulled her eyes to regard her other half, the emotions she found in them reflected her own, she was sure, and she knew that they were both reliving the same painful memory in that moment. Emma pretended not to notice the silent conversation going on between them, keeping her eyes on her food and allowing them the illusion of privacy. In the end, the Queen was the first to leave the table, excusing herself under the guise of wanting to shower so she could get out of the ridiculously common pajamas (which she was loathe to admit might actually be the most comfortable clothes she'd ever worn), abandoning more than half of her breakfast and leaving her plate ("A Queen does not do dishes, Miss Swan"). This whole thing was verging on being too much for her to handle and she found she simply couldn't muster an appetite with the churning in her stomach that had started shortly after Regina had pushed her heart, now almost equal parts black and red, back beneath her breastbone the previous evening.

After that Regina and Emma went about what was a familiar routine for them, though it had been a long time since they'd shared a post-sleepover meal, with Emma clearing the dishes from the table (after polishing off her own pancakes and the Queen's leftovers) and washing them before handing them over to Regina to dry and return to their proper places around the kitchen. Neither of them brought up the events of the night before, nor the question of how the Evil Queen had come to be a seemingly welcome houseguest rather than the nemesis she'd been less than a day prior. The Queen never returned to the kitchen, and eventually, with a soft touch to Emma's lower back, Regina left the room and headed upstairs to get ready for her day, having mentioned needing to check in with Henry who had spent the night at his Grandparent's house in order to help whichever one of them was awake with caring for little Neal. Emma smiled to herself, thinking of how her sweet, thoughtful boy had been staying with Snow and David a lot lately, offering to help in whatever way he could as they found themselves more-or-less operating as single parents. She was so lost in her thoughts as she headed back to the study to retrieve her leather jacket that she nearly walked into the woman exiting that very room.

"Jesus, sorry Regina!"

"You would do well to watch where you're going, Savior, you never know who might be around the next corner." She knew immediately that this was the Queen, and would have even without the attempt at a predatory look aimed her way. Her make-up was less severe than she normally wore it, but still, the eyeliner was thicker, the shadow darker, the lashes longer, and the lips redder than Regina had worn hers in years, and she'd managed to find the very dress Regina had worn the night Emma had met her and paired it with a black jacket that, though modern in cut, had suspiciously pointy shoulder pads. Emma also noticed that she was at least two inches shorter in comparison to the other woman which, given her natural height advantage, she wouldn't usually be even when barefoot, and a quick glance down at the Queen's feet, wrapped in a pair of 6 inch heels so shiny she could see her reflection in them, explained the discrepancy. Emma brushed past her, not giving her the satisfaction of showing even the slightest bit of intimidation.

"Enough with the "Savior" crap, Regina. And don't "Miss Swan" me either. I'm just Emma." She picked up her jacket and slid one arm in, swinging it over her shoulder and causing a round, metal object to slip out of the pocket and hit the floor with a thud. She bent to pick it up, recognizing it as Hook's old pocket watch, and froze. She wasn't sure what it was doing in her pocket, or how long it had been there, but it served as a painful reminder of what had brought her to the mansion the night before. The clicking of heels against wood let her know that Regina was approaching, but she couldn't move, couldn't stand up straight from her hunched position, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe against what felt like the emotional equivalent of a punch to the gut.

"Emma," for the second time that morning a hand was placed tenderly against her lower back, this one far more unsure in its motions but radiating just as much warmth. "What is it? Is it...are you alright?" The words came out in a tone that spoke volumes about how little experience the Queen had in comforting others, how truly out of her element she felt. It was funny, despite years of existing as half of Regina, half of a woman raising a son and learning to care about those around her, it was like it was the first time all over again. She had tried so hard to fight against the kinder, more loving Regina that she'd managed not to learn much at all from the many lessons in how love could be more of a strength than a weakness, more of a gift than a curse. So here she was, looking at a woman she had spent weeks enjoying hurting and toying with, and finding her heart clenching in her chest in response to the obvious pain radiating off of Emma, desperately wanting to be able to make it go away. Emma cleared her throat, finally managing to straighten back up, and turned to face her, tears swimming in her eyes.

"Hook left. He killed David's father. He lied to me about it, and when I confronted him, he left." A lone tear escaped and ran down her cheek, her fist coming up to brush it away harshly, tilting her head back slightly and shaking it as if trying to dry up the rest of the offending droplets. She cleared her throat again, coughing against the sadness squeezing her throat like an unseen hand. "Anyway, I gotta get to work. Still got a fairy to stop and a prophecy to beat." She attempted a wry smile but it came out as more of a grimace. She was almost to the door before the Queen found her voice again.

"Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"I told you you were too good for him." Emma's eyebrows raised, regarding her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "What? You thought little miss "sacrifice herself on the altar of other people's happiness" was the one talking in that moment? Like she ever would have had the nerve to tell you that and risk messing up your happy ending. Oh no Dear, that was all me." She felt her confidence returning as slid into a familiar teasing role, that is until Emma's eyes hardened, her posture growing stiff.

"I guess you got what you wanted then, your Majesty," she spit out the epithet as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, "Even the Savior doesn't get a happy ending in this story. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try to stop my impending murder, though I imagine that would really wrap up things in a nice little bow for you wouldn't it?" With that she was storming down the walkway, having swung the front door so hard that it ricocheted off the wall and slammed shut behind her. The Queen was stunned, feeling rather like she might vomit and completely at a loss for what to do. Should she chase after Emma? What could she possibly say to make her feel better? It's not like she was wrong, just yesterday she would have been cackling with glee over this turn of events but now...now all she felt was sorrow, and a deep and confusing longing where Emma Swan was concerned.

"What the hell did you do?" Regina's near shriek from the staircase behind her startled her, causing her to spin around and face her other half who was looking at her with equal parts disappointment and exasperation.

"I didn't, I just, I was trying to..." Regina's expression softened to something closer to pity, or perhaps it was understanding and she was just reading it wrong, as she watched her stumble over her words in a truly un-Queen-like manner. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and tugged at the bottom of her coat before bringing one up to move her long brown hair back over her shoulder with an exaggerated swoop. Regina descended the stairs, her own outfit choice surprising similar to the Queen's, though more muted and subtle in its elegance.

"What was it that set her off?"

"Hook left her."

"And that's way she slammed my door so hard she nearly shattered the windows?" A perfectly sculpted brown arched accusingly in her direction. Regina clearly wasn't buying that Emma's anger had been aimed at anyone other than her.

"That, yes, and I may have told her that it was me who told her she was too good for him back in the underworld because you would never have said something to get in the way of her fairytale romance."

"I imagine she took that about as well as could be expected."

The Queen hung her head, her shoulders sagging in a truly atypical slouch.

"I'm not very good at this am I?"

"Hmm, it seems not. Truth be told, neither am I." Regina caught her under her chin and raised her head to look into her eyes. "You'll learn. We both will." She patted her on the shoulder before moving past and scooping up her purse and house keys. "Don't worry, I'll fix things with Emma. Can you just please stay here for the day and try not to cause any trouble? We can sort out what to tell everyone about your...our...change of heart once we get her back on her feet, for now the last thing we need is the Charmings, or anyone else in this town, thinking you've somehow cast some sort of a spell on Emma and I and have us under your thrall."

The Queen nodded her agreement, not one to enjoy being cooped up however she was feeling so tumultuously vulnerable that the last thing she wanted to do was put herself at the mercy of a town full of people who saw her as nothing more than the very embodiment of Regina's worst qualities. She didn't trust them to see the change in her, nor did she trust herself to show it to them if given the chance. Regina was just about to close the door behind her when she called out,

"Regina, wait."

"Yes?" Regina was paused, one foot over the threshold, one hand on the doorknob, turned halfway back towards her expectantly. Without thinking the Queen moved forward, surprising them both when she wrapped her arms around Regina's neck and pulled her into a tight embrace. A startled gasp slipped from Regina's lips, an awkward moment passing before she brought her own arms to wrap around the Queen's waist. The feeling of holding the other was somehow foreign and the most natural thing all at once, both sets of dark eyes falling shut as their breathing synced up and the world around them faded away. After what could have been 10 minutes or 30 seconds, neither could say, they pulled apart without a word, each wearing matching sheepish expressions.

"Take care of her Regina."

"I will."

"Take care of yourself too."

"I will."

Their hands, which had linked after the hug was broken, finally let go of one another. Regina gave her a knowing smile and squinted her eyes in teasing seriousness.

"You. Be. Good."

"I will. I'll try."


	4. Chapter 4-The Aftermath of Girl's Night

It was 2:30am...again. At least, Emma was relatively sure that's what the numbers on the clock said, though they kept wiggling about obnoxiously. Maybe switching from beer to mixed drinks hadn't been the best idea...Snow wasn't wrong when she said "artisanal" meant "strong". Being tricked into a night out by Regina and Snow had turned out to be just the distraction she needed. At first she wasn't sure it was a good idea, she'd really just wanted to buckle down and focus on work. Then Regina had showed up at the station all hopeful smiles and 2 for 1 drink coupons and she'd almost acquiesced until she'd remembered the Queen's comments from that morning and she'd decided that focusing on the problems at hand was rather more important than any girl's night. She didn't need to figure out her feelings, she just needed to forget about Hook for a while until everything stopped hurting so much.

Well...everything was certainly hurting less after 2 large beers and 2 delicious, but extremely strong, cocktails. Somewhere halfway through her second drink things had started to get warm and fuzzy. By drink number 3 she'd relaxed considerably and was chatting animatedly with Regina about just about anything (aside from Hook, the newly reformed Evil Queen, Robin, Zelena, or her impending death). Now, 4 drinks in, she was doubled over in a fit of hysterics while she watched her mother get increasingly more frustrated when Regina, intoxicated as she was, still managed to catch every single blade thrown with striking accuracy directly at her head. Snow was rapidly turning into a version of herself that gave Emma a clear picture of the whiney little brat Regina had had to put up with during her years married to the King.

"I just don't get it Regina! I'm a good shot. My aim is FLAWLESS. How are you catching these?"

"Magic, dear." Regina nearly purred, reaching to the nearby table to scoop up her martini and taking a sip while swatting the next dagger out of the air without even glancing in its direction, knocking it off course mere millimeters from her right eyebrow.

"It's not fair!" Snow actually whined this time, her voice going all sickeningly squeaky and her foot stomping the ground.

"Oh and what would be fair? If I let you take out my eye?"

Emma was pretty sure she heard her mother mutter something about an eye for an eye, which caused Regina to toss her hands in the air in frustration, momentarily forgetting the drink she still held which sloshed over the rim of the glass and splashed down the front of her leopard print dress, much to her chagrin. Spotting the telltale sparks that marked the beginnings of a fireball forming in Regina's palm, Emma slid her hand into Regina's, wincing slightly at the intense heat that had already formed there despite the lack of actual flames, and tugged the surprised looking woman over to the bar, leaving Snow to challenge one of the Vikings to a round of pool, blissfully unaware that she had almost been flambéed.

"That's enough pin-the-knife-on-the-Gina for tonight, I think." Emma tugged Regina to her side, wrapping one arm around her waist and leaning her head on her shoulder as she raised a finger to signal the bartender to refill their drinks. Despite local liquor laws dictating that the bars should close by 1am, it seemed that having the Mayor/Former Evil Queen, Former Princess(or was it Queen?)/Former Mayor, and the Savior/Former Dark One/Princess as patrons meant they would stay open until the trio decided it was time to call it a night.

"Worried about me, Swan?" Regina attempted to pull away enough to look down at Emma only to find the grip around her waist tightening.

"Don't call me that R'gina." Emma's speech was slightly slurred at this point, probably due in equal parts to alcohol, emotional exhaustion, and being simply too lazy to form her words properly.

"Why? Because of him? I called you 'Swan' long before Guyliner was ever in the picture. If anyone gets to claim that one, it should rightfully be me." Emma didn't respond to this for a long time, leaving her head where it lay against Regina's shoulder, reaching out to snatch up her newly replenished drink and taking a long swig.

"He left me, Regina. He really did it. He actually ran." There were tears falling down her cheeks before she was aware her eyes had filled up, dripping down onto Regina's bare arm, her black jacket having been discarded hours earlier.

"Idiot." The word came out more of a growl than an actual word, the low timber causing Emma to feel it as it rumbled from deep in Regina's ribcage and up through her throat. Emma gulped down a sob and sniffed, trying to keep from making an absolute spectacle of herself.

"I know. I know I am. I just thought, maybe this time it wouldn't happen. Maybe this time I would be enough to make someone stay." No sooner had she finished speaking did she feel fingers grasping her chin, forceful yet soft, pulling her face up to look at Regina's.

"Not you Emma. Never you. Him. He's the idiot. That one handed moron has no idea what he had and he just threw it all away. This isn't on you. Do you hear me?"

Emma found herself struck completely dumb at the burning intensity she found on the remarkably expressive face before her. There were so many layers of emotion dancing across Regina's features that she couldn't even start to unravel them in her current state, instead she found herself absolutely captivated and drawn in, leaning steadily closer until she could feel Regina's breath ghost across her eyelashes, the distinctive briny smell of olives drifting past her nose. Just as her brain started to catch up with the moment, realizing that something was happening here the was huge, that could be huge, a very drunk Snow practically body slammed into the two of them and the world came thundering back in.

"I won! Our tab is being paid by those ridiculous Vikings and I even got them to buy the next round!" Snow's always rosy cheeks had gone somehow rosier, giving her an almost clownish appearance. Emma groaned at the thought of more alcohol, and perhaps also more than a little bit due to the feeling of loss as Regina slid from the grip she'd had around her waist and reached for their jackets hanging on the nearby coat rack.

"No more rounds tonight, Snow. It's time you got home to wake David and relieve my son-"

"Our son"

"- _Our_ son from his babysitting duties."

"But Regina!" Snow was whining again, earning her a shake of Regina's head and look that, if Emma didn't think it would earn her a fireball to the face, she would have called positively "step-motherly".

"No, Snow. Go let your sleeping curse deal with your hangover." Before another protest could leave Snow's blood-red lips, Regina twirled her hand and the other woman vanished in a puff of purple smoke.

"Regina?!" Emma squealed.

"What? I just sent her back to the loft. It's not like she could drive in that state anyway, and I wasn't about to deal with her yammering all the way back there. She'll be fine. All she has to do is kiss her Prince and pass out, quite literally." There was a twinkle in Regina's eyes that reminded Emma of the vengeful Queen she'd once been, despite her current actions being harmless she knew Regina was picturing the fit Snow would throw upon materializing back home, having been magicked there without permission. Regina took pleasure in the little things these days, the ways she could still annoy her once arch enemy without causing any real harm. Deciding to let Regina enjoy her tiny victory, Emma snatched her own jacket from Regina's hand and put it on, pretending not to notice the way she swayed slightly on her feet.

"Let's go Regina. I'm beat."

"Yes, indeed, I'm rather tired myself. This certainly turned out to be an...interesting evening. I can't say it's exactly what I had planned, but it was an experience for sure." Regina was just raising her hand in the motion she most often used before poofing (as Emma still insisted on calling it) when she felt fingers slide between her own.

"Maybe we could walk home? I know I could use the fresh air." Emma's expression was nervous, like she was sure Regina would scoff at her, so Regina wove their finger together and pulled Emma closer to her side, reaching across her body with her free arm to grasp the bicep of the arm whose fingers clutched at her own.

"A walk would be wonderful." Her smile was broad, one of those light up the sky, take your breath away smiles that Emma loved to see spread across her friend's face. They were a rare sight, and one she counted herself lucky to have been on the receiving end of more than once. What she had done to earn a smile like that tonight she couldn't say, but it caused one to blossom across her own lips and she relaxed against Regina's body.

"Home?" Emma spoke as she swung the door open, leaving Aesop's Table to the bartender and the Vikings, loosening her grip on Regina just enough so that the other woman could step out into the night ahead of her.

"Yes Emma, home."

They walked under the clear sky, the nearly full moon illuminating their way, that astonishing smile never leaving Regina's lips. Neither of them spoke, the silence without any tension as their shoulders bumped and their linked hands swayed between them.

Regina didn't mention that Emma had called the mansion home. She didn't question what that meant, or what it meant when she felt her heart speed up and skip a beat in response.


	5. Chapter 5-Moms

Henry jogged up the walk, his backpack flung haphazardly over his shoulder, his button up shirt only halfway tucked into his pants in his haste to get dressed and get home. It's not like he'd been out doing anything he shouldn't have, he'd only been at his Grandparent's house, but he was hours later than expected and he knew that his mother would be worried, especially with everything going on with the Evil Queen. Honestly, he was surprised that she hadn't showed up on the Charming's doorstep with a stern expression on her face demanding to know why he thought it appropriate to disregard the rules and stay out without contacting her. He knew something had happened with the Queen, Regina having called him after the showdown at city hall to assure him, in the vaguest way possible, that she was ok and would fill him in on everything later. She'd sounded tired when she'd asked him if he wouldn't mind staying with Snow and David for a while longer, playing up how much she knew they loved having him and how much of a help he was to them while their sleeping curse remained in effect. He was pretty sure that she was really asking because whatever had taken place had left her feeling vulnerable and she wanted some time to collect herself before allowing him to see her. She did that a lot, even these days when they were so much more a team than they used to be, and though he wished she didn't feel the need for the distance he did respect it. Unfortunately, he knew he'd messed up coming home so late, especially when he was supposed to be at school for science fair preparation over an hour ago, and he was really wishing it was Emma and not Regina whom he was about to face. It's just that when his grandmother had arrived home from what she'd told him would be a relaxing get together with his moms, actually falling through the door of the apartment at somewhere around 3am, the noise she'd made (while clearly trying very hard not to make any at all) had woken him from his slumber in the lofted room that used to be Emma's and once he'd passed out again he'd ended up completely over sleeping. He paused just outside the door, his key in the lock, and took a deep breath as he put on his best innocent puppy dog face before finally pushing the it open as quietly as he could and stepping inside.

The first thing he noticed was that the house was almost astonishingly quiet. It's not that his home was often noisy, but at 11:45am on a Saturday the record player that his mom kept in peak condition was usually playing one of her favorites (which had lately included an abundance of Bowie) while she cleaned up from the big weekend breakfast that she took pride in preparing for the two of them, even sometimes welcoming Emma and Hook, Snow and David, and little Neal too. Today though there wasn't a sound to be heard, and there were no scents of delicious breakfast foods dancing their way out from the kitchen. The next thing he noticed was a bright red leather jacket in a rumpled heap on the floor next to the staircase as if it had been draped over the banister but had since slid off. So, Emma was here...or she had been at some point. Practically tip-toeing, afraid to make a floorboard creak and shatter the stillness around him, Henry made his way across the house to the kitchen, confirming his suspicions that no food had been cooked, no juice fresh-squeezed, and no coffee made. He was halfway back to the staircase, thinking that maybe if he could get to his bedroom he could fool his mom into thinking he'd been home on time after all, when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that froze him where he stood. Through the partway open door to the study he could see a figure asleep in the most uncomfortable looking of positions on one of the wingback chairs. There was a book in the slumbering woman's lap, glasses perched so low on her nose that they were in danger of sliding off. It had been a long time since he'd found his mom like this. Much like her desire to protect him from seeing her when she was feeling emotionally vulnerable, she always tried to keep her troubles and problems hidden. It's not like he didn't know when she was up all night researching or testing her magic, he wasn't blind and he'd see the circles under her eyes, the way she'd pour that extra cup of coffee, the way she'd massage her temples when she thought he wasn't looking. The last time he'd seen her like this had been during Operation Mongoose when she had worked herself ragged, practically passing out amongst dusty old books looking for any and every clue as to where she might find the author. Regina was so deeply weary that day that it had taken all of his strength, with his mom's arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his around her waist, to get her upstairs and into her bed. When she'd finally come back down, 8 hours later, it had been with a bashful expression that harbored more than a little shame, though she'd held him close and kissed his head and thanked him for being her little Prince before insisting they go out to Granny's for dinner where she'd allowed him to order everything he wanted (including two helpings of fries, a huge chocolate and strawberry swirled milkshake, _and_ a slice of apple pie with ice cream on top). Henry managed to get himself so lost in the memory of that day, smiling wistfully as he recalled the way his mom's face had lit up with a broad grin when Emma (who had caused a very similar smile to appear on Regina's face just a couple of nights before when she'd enthusiastically agreed to join the mission to find Regina's second...or third...chance at happiness) had sidled up to their table with her own milkshake in hand, a milkshake which Regina would go on to sneak sips from while he distracted Emma with endless challenges to rounds of thumb wrestling, that he didn't notice deep brown eyes popping open and watching him until a sleep-hoarse voice broke the silence and caused him to jump and drop his backpack to the floor with a reverberating thud.

"Henry?" He watched as his mom sat up, pulling her glasses off and placing them neatly on the end table, eyeing him with confusion and, was that...fear? He opted to ignore the perplexing emotions mixing across her face, deciding to play it cool and hope she wouldn't notice the time. He gave her a half smile and ducked his head just a tad as he moved forwards into the study.

"Oh, hey Mom. I didn't know you were down here, sorry if I woke you." He should have stopped there, but she was still looking at him in the strangest way and it was making him nervous. "Say, since you didn't feel like making breakfast, or at least it doesn't seem like you did, which is fine. You're obviously tired-"

"Henry."

"-not that I mind, it's totally cool-" He was rambling, he knew that. It was something he did when he knew he was anxious or trying to talk his way out of a pickle he'd put himself in, a pesky trait inherited from Emma, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

"Henry."

"-we could go to Granny's, just me and you, like old times. Or, not really that old since we just went there like, 2 days ago, and we eat there all the time anyway, but-"

"Henry Daniel Mills!" the use of his full name, coupled with his mom rising from the chair and approaching him, as well as the increase in both volume and sharpness of her tone, finally stopped his word-vomit midstream. Only when his jaw slammed shut did he dare make eye contact with her, and he did so right as she gave her hair that little flip she did when she was frustrated and he realized in an instant that something was very, very wrong.

"You! You're not...! Where is...? What are **_you_** doing here? Where is my mom?!" He pulled his shoulders back, attempting to look taller and stronger than he was, all the while feeling his feet back peddling away from the woman he now realized was the Evil Queen. To his complete shock, the Queen raised her hands not in an offensive gesture but in a defensive and rather placating one, one that Henry hadn't seen his mother use with him since the days of "I found my real mom!" and "I don't want to be like you."

"Henry, I'm not going to hurt you." The Queen spoke and there was a quivering in her voice he wasn't used to hearing from this always flamboyantly confident version of his mother.

"If you hurt my mom, you hurt me. Where is she?" He heard his voice start to crack as he surprised himself by raising it to a near shout. He watched, perplexed, as the Queen's mouth opened and shut a couple of times like she was trying to figure out the right thing to say, her hands smoothing down her wrinkled dress before knotting in front of her and worrying at the space between her thumb and forefinger in a nervous gesture that Henry recognized because it was how he could always tell when his mother was anxious no matter how big her smile or comforting her words. Before she was able to formulate a response, or a biting retort, the sound of feet pounding down the staircase and calls of "Henry? Are you ok?" drew both of their attention to the hall.

"Henry?" Emma's voice, full of concern, reached him just before the sight of her skidding in socked-feet around the corner, gripping the doorframe to slow herself as she nearly slipped on the sleek wood floors. He was about to open his mouth to announce that the Evil Queen had infiltrated the house and was impersonating his mom when he was stunned into silence by the next person to come skidding around the corner, only slightly more gracefully than Emma had managed. Her hair had gone all curly from being slept on while it was wet and, if he wasn't mistaken, she was wearing the over-sized Harvard University hoodie that Emma usually kept in the back seat of her bug (she'd bought it during the year he and Emma had lived in New York when she'd surprised him with a weekend trip to Boston and insisted they visit the college and take a tour despite him being far too young because "This is where you belong Henry! With a brain like yours, kid, you'll rule this place.") and a pair of yoga pants that he was fairly certain no one other than himself had ever seen. To top it all off, once Emma regained her footing and came to stand next to Regina, Henry felt his brain completely short-circuit because there was absolutely no doubt that Emma was wearing his mother's dark grey silk robe over...far less clothing than he ever wanted to think about his mom wearing.

"Moms?!" This time there was no stopping, excusing, or hiding the high pitched, mid-puberty screech that broke the word in half. He wasn't sure what to think as he looked back and forth between them, and then back towards the Evil Queen who was moving around to stand by Regina, the two of them exchanging a look that was clearly some sort of silent conversation. Emma watched them for a second before rolling her eyes and turning back to Henry.

"Ok kid, it's like this: Your mom and the Ev-I mean, the Queen, they've work things out. I don't know all the details yet-" Henry scowled at her with an incredulous expression he had definitely learned from Regina, so she emphasized her next words to make sure they got through loud and clear, "-And that's ok, because we trust your mom, and if she says it's cool, then it's cool. Alright?" The look she gave him told him he'd better say yes, and so, after taking in the twin expressions of trepidation gracing both his mom and her other half's face, he nodded.

"Ok, fine. But I want to know absolutely everything that happened."

"Deal kid, but not right now. I don't even get that privilege yet, but I'm sure your mom will tell us when she's ready." Emma reached out and pulled him into a one handed hug, brushing a quick kiss to the top of his head (something she could only just barely still do when he bowed his head ever so slightly) before winking at a still uncertain looking Regina and attempting to catch the eye of the Queen who was doing her best to look disinterested in the whole family scene and failing miserably as she kept peaking at the three of them out of the corner of her eye with such longing it pulled at Henry's gut. Deciding for now that he needed to do what Emma said and just trust that his parents knew what they were doing and that things were ok, he opted to do what he did best and believe in his family, believe in his moms, and believe in the power of good to prevail. He smiled at all three of them before slipping out of Emma's grasp and scooping his backpack up off the floor, the action reminding him of the reason he'd been sneaking around his own house in the first place. Maybe, if he played this right, it could work out to his advantage, since it did seem that his moms had failed to notice how late he'd gotten home, or that he was technically supposed to be at school.

"So...I don't know about you guys but I'm starved." He turned to Regina, his eyes twinkling, "maybe you could make that special french toast Emma loves so much, you know the one that you taught me to make when I was little? We could all have brunch together. Like a family." The Queen gave a tiny little gasp at the word family, and Henry knew his words were having the desired impact by the extraordinarily warm way that his mom was looking at him and blinking just a little too fast. Even now, even after years of things being good between them, it always worked in his favor to remind her of simpler times, when they were each other's whole world. Regina cleared her throat and then narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously before nodding her approval at his idea.

"Sure Henry, that sounds like a wonderful idea. But, you'll have to do the dishes."

"Of course Mom, it's worth it if you make your homemade blueberry syrup."

"Oh my god Regina, I didn't know you made that stuff!" Emma was grinning and practically bouncing on her feet, nothing bringing out her inner child quite like breakfast foods. Regina blushed slightly and bowed her head in thanks before turning to leave the room, Emma hot on her trail while she continued to praise her cooking and spew out requests for a side of sausage, and a hot cocoa, and maybe some eggs. Henry was about to follow them, enjoying their happiness even more than he enjoyed the perk of getting away with missing the science fair prep course (it wasn't that he didn't like school, but science had never been his favorite subject and after everything that had been going on this year he just wasn't motivated to spend what little free time he had working on a project he could barely understand), when he remembered the Queen standing off to his right. She was watching him studiously, having not said a word since his moms had barged into the room and broken up their stand-off. Henry reached out his hand and grinned.

"Hi. I'm Henry. Nice to meet you." For a second the Queen looked like she thought he might have hit his head on something rather hard, but when he just continued to grin at her like he was including her in some inside joke, she slowly reached out her hand and clasped his own.

"Regina. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Henry."

"So, my mom makes a killer breakfast, well, not literally...not anymore..." The Queen's smile faltered, a haunted look passing across her face for just a moment before she shut it down and tried (and failed) to look relaxed, so Henry plowed on, "I mean, I guess you probably already know how good her french toast is, since you've made it too...I guess." His brow scrunched up as he tried to keep things straight with this confusing new development in his family dynamic, before deciding it was better to just roll with it. "Maybe you can help make it?" The Queen hummed in response, a smirk sliding across her features.

"Help? I think not. What I can do is give those too a lesson in how to make the very best vanilla bourbon french toast that this realm has ever seen." With that she offered up her arm for Henry to take which, after a moment of awkward hesitation, he did, linking their elbows and escorting her from the study. They were halfway to the kitchen when she leaned in close and whispered in his ear "Do you know what the secret to the blueberry syrup is?"

"Of course, Mom!" (the title falling from his lips without a second thought) "You cook the blueberries down in the drippings from the bacon. Gives the syrup that real "umami" flavor. You taught me that when I was-"

"5. I remember, Henry." The Queen's eyes were shining but he pretended not to notice, not wanting to scare her away by drawing attention to her emotions. Instead he simply held her arm a little tighter and rubbed his belly exaggeratedly with his free hand.

"I'm so hungry you're going to have to make a double recipe! I can't wait!"

The Queen let out a genuine chuckle, rocking closer to him and bumping their shoulders together fondly. They entered the kitchen like that, earning a surprised once-over from Regina and a proud smile from Emma as they each took in his acceptance of the Queen and the way she was looking at him like he was the most incredible being she'd ever met. He was just about to pull away and reach for the drawer where his mom kept the aprons when he heard the Queen, and his mother, clear their throats simultaneously.

"Henry darling," Regina had crossed her arms over her chest and was leaning back against the stove, doing a shockingly good job at looking superior despite her casual appearance. "Don't think we've forgotten about that science fair meeting you've clearly missed."

"Nor the fact that you came home," the Queen looked over at the kitchen clock to check the time, "3 hours later than you were supposed to. And without calling, I might add."

Henry slumped, his eyes suddenly finding a spot on the floor super interesting, and mumbled, stumbling over his words, "Sorry Mom. Moms. Regina." Emma's barking laugh broke the tension.

"Oh my god Reginas, give the kid a break. It's not like he was out partying. And with all your expertise in spells and stuff I'm sure you two can help him whip up a wicked chemistry project in plenty of time for the fair." Both Reginas gave little indignant huffs, earning them each an eye roll from Emma, the whole scene making it impossible for Henry to keep the smile off his face. Having three moms was certainly going to be...different. Sure, there would now be three of them to keep an eye on him, worry about him, bug him about his homework and his curfew and whether or not he was wearing enough layers for the chilly Maine weather (who was he kidding, Emma had never remembered to tell him to bundle up, usually failing to put on her own winter clothes), but having two moms had turned out to be pretty awesome so why not see how things went with one more. Who knows, maybe he could even use the Queen's wild side to his advantage. Maybe she'd teach him to drive! Oh yeah, maybe this could be awesome.


	6. Chapter 6-Sleepless in Storybrooke

-The Night Before-

Regina was cold, seconds away from shivering violently, and trying her damndest not to show it. She and Emma may be close now, both in a watching movies on the couch and accidently falling asleep there way and in a trust one another with their lives way, but that didn't mean she had to give her the satisfaction of knowing that for once Regina had forgotten to plan ahead and bring actual outerwear appropriate for the windy nights of a small coastal town in Maine. Though she was loathe to admit it, Emma was actually the one of the two of them better dressed for the weather with her black turtle neck, leather coat, her favorite (and annoyingly endearing) grey beanie, and the sleek yet incredibly warm black gloves that Regina had given her for Christmas the previous year. Regina, on the other hand, was wearing her sleeveless dress and a stylish but absolutely not-insulated jacket. Emma had offered her the hat and gloves when they first stepped out into the night and realized that it held a biting chill, but she'd declined claiming she was perfectly fine as she was ("I wasn't intending to have to escort you home on foot, I thought I'd be taking my car back from the bar." "Escort _me_ home? Come on Regina, you've had at least as much to drink as I have! What kind of Sherriff would I be if I let you drive home drunk?").

Of course, Emma had noticed how cold Regina was. She saw it in the way her fists were clenched so tightly at her sides that she was sure her perfectly manicured nails were leaving indents in her palms. She saw it in the way Regina's lips were pressed together in a thin line and how her jaw muscles were twitching with the strain of keeping her teething from chattering. Emma gave her head a little shake, a fond smile gracing her lips. In the past she might have taken this opportunity to rib the other woman, give her grief for all the grief she'd taken from her over the years, but they were past that now...at least most of the time...and after what Regina had done for her tonight to get her mind off of _him_ she felt no need to antagonize but rather only to offer care and support. As they passed by her bug where she'd left it at the station she'd run over to it, digging around the backseat, and returned with a ridiculously oversized sweatshirt in hand, wordlessly holding it out to Regina. Both of Regina's eyebrows migrated so high on her forehead as she looked down at the maroon cotton before her that Emma wondered, not for the first time, if Regina had extra muscles in her forehead that the rest of them lacked. Regina simply looked mildly offended before she continued walking, leaving Emma to catch up.

Five minutes later and another couple of blocks down the road saw Regina snatching the sweatshirt from her hands without so much as looking at her and tugging it over her body, the length of it coming nearly to her mid-thigh. Emma smiled. Regina smiled. They walked the rest of the way to the mansion in comfortable silence.

* * *

By the time they'd arrived they had both sobered up just enough for Regina to decide that a night cap was what they'd need to warm up before bed. A quick sweep of first floor showed no sign of the Queen, but just as she was about to check upstairs she realized that she knew exactly where her counterpart was. Glad for the sweatshirt, she stepped through the back door and out into the cold to find the Queen on her porch swing with a forgotten martini on the nearby table and a steaming mug of tea in her hand. She was dressed too formally for the solitude of the back yard at this late hour, but that had always been her style. Regina recognized the dress and couldn't help the roll of her eyes when she realized it's crushed velvet was exactly the same shade as Emma's damned sweatshirt. The Queen spoke without looking at her, knowing already what Regina was going to say.

"I'm ok, Regina. We'll talk tomorrow. Go help your Savior forget her handless moron."

 _Your._ It hung there in the air between them like it had matter and weight. The Queen blew on her tea to cool it, pulling it closer to her body.

"Tomorrow." Regina spoke so softly that, if she wasn't fairly certain she didn't need to actually speak for the Queen to hear her, she knew it would have been too quiet to be audible at all.

She returned to the kitchen and began preparing two hot toddies, the perfect drink to calm her sudden nervous energy and chase the last of the chill from her body. She knew Emma had a soft spot for them, having made them for her while they were in hell and earning herself a near purr of contentment in response.

"Hey Gina, where's your other half? She ok?" Emma had entered the room behind her, and when she turned to look at her over her shoulder she found that she had shed her leather jacket and exchanged it for the deep, blood red cashmere blanket from the couch in Regina's study, wrapping it around herself like a cape.

"She's out back. She's fi-she will be fine. We'll deal with all of-" she waved her left hand in the air between herself and the door to the backyard, "-with everything tomorrow."

Emma glanced towards the door but didn't say anything, didn't question her or go check to verify that the Queen was, in fact, where Regina said she was. She did however sniff the air and then rush to Regina's side, breathing deeply just over her shoulder, so close that Regina could feel the warmth coming off of her body and an exhale tickle her ear.

"Oh my god, are you making those sinfully delicious whatever-you-call-ems that you made that night?"

That night...the night after Emma had begged Regina to split her heart in two and give half of it to Hook. The night after it hadn't worked. The night Emma had crawled into the hell-copy of her bed in the hell-copy of the loft, the bed that Regina had been sleeping in, and silently cried and cried and cried until Regina had wrapped her arms around her from behind and pulled her body flush against her own, placing her arms over Emma's and holding them crossed over Emma's heart until the tears dried and they both drifted into a profoundly deep sleep. It was a night they'd never addressed and something they had never, ever repeated. In the moments before Regina hummed in response to Emma's excited question about the hot drinks now being poured carefully into two glass mugs, they each held their breath, feeling the tension of the unacknowledged thickening the air between their bodies. And then Regina "Mmmhmm'd" in confirmation, and Emma cleared her throat, and the spell, so to speak, was broken.

They retired to the study, Regina flicking her hand in the direction of the fireplace, illuminating it instantly and bathing the room in a gentle, flickering glow. Everything was quiet, save for the crackling flames, as they each settled on their preferred sides of the sofa. Sometime later, though how long could only be judged by the amount their drinks had cooled, Emma spoke.

"I think he's really gone, Regina." Regina pulled her eyes from the fire and gazed at Emma, not responding but simply allowing her time to process her next words. Emma wasn't looking at her, didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular.

"It's strange. I know how I should feel. I know I should be sad, or mad, or maybe even both. And I am, I guess. But right now I just feel sort of...You know the way your head feels after you've taken a long flight seated too close to the engines? The way it sort of, buzzes? Like you can still hear the engines even hours later when you're trying to sleep?"

When Regina didn't answer Emma turned to look at her and saw her head tilted to one side and her eyebrows pinched like she was trying to puzzle out Emma's analogy. Emma blushed, realizing her error.

"No, I guess you wouldn't know how that feels, huh? Anyway...I just feel sort of, numb. Or something. I don't know. I'm no good at this."

Regina reached out a hand, partially covered by the cuff of the sweatshirt that she pulled down over it while she listened, and gently placed in on Emma's knee.

"I understand perfectly. I felt like that. After Robin. At least, if I'm interpreting what you're getting at correctly, I believe it was much the same for me. Sitting at Granny's, after the funeral, it was like all the sounds were muted, were further away, and yet my head was pounding with this noise, rather like when you hold a seashell to your ear to hear the ocean, except so all encompassing that it was utterly claustrophobic." Emma's surprised and sympathetic expression told her that she'd hit the nail on the head and that, perhaps, she did know how your head felt after being a plane for too long despite never having been on one at all.

"Right. Like that." Emma attempted a half smile but it fell short, her lips pulling downward again. "I'm sorry Regina. I must seem like such an ass, comparing Hook leaving me to your true love being killed."

"Soul mate." Regina corrected, though she wasn't sure why she felt the need to make the distinction, then shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand for a second before tucking her hair behind her ear and squeezing Emma's knee once more, "But that is neither here nor there, and you are allowed to feel however you feel about that fool and his idiotic decisions."

Emma was back to staring at nothing and things were quiet again. Finally, and so quietly Regina might have missed it were she not paying so much attention to the other woman, she murmured,

"Under all that, under the buzzing and the hurt, I think...I think a part of me is relieved. It was just...I don't know. Not easy?" Shame flood Emma's feature as soon as the words were out, but Regina didn't move, didn't release the gentle pressure of her hand on Emma's leg. She couldn't say it was what she'd expected Emma to say, but she had noticed that the Emma had been struggling for months now under the weight of her destiny and she suspected it wasn't just the prophecy of her death that had been causing that strain. She didn't respond, not sure what Emma needed to hear, or if she was ready to hear anything. It became clear after several moments that that was all Emma was going to say on the matter for the night when, just after swallowing down the last sip of her drink, she was overwhelmed by a yawn. She turned to look at Regina, smirking when Regina was overcome by a yawn of her own, and then patted the hand still resting on her leg.

"I'm beat. Let's go to bed. The kid's got that thing in the morning which at this point is really not nearly enough hours from now, so we should probably try to get some sleep." She rose to her feet, offering a hand to pull Regina up as well. When Regina reached to scoop up their mugs, no doubt intending to wash and return them to their proper places, Emma chuckled and tugged on the hand she was holding, "Leave 'em, they'll still be there in the morning."

"Yes, dear, that's the problem." Despite her protest, Regina acquiesced and followed Emma from the study, glancing down at their still-intertwined fingers as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They were close but they were never touchy-feely, except for that night, in fact it seemed that in the past 48 hours they had touched more than in the all the years they had known each other. It was just Emma's need to know someone was there after having the man she thought she'd spend her life with vanish without so much as a goodbye, or at least that was what Regina told herself as she diligently ignored the way her stomach sank unpleasantly when Emma loosened her grip and dropped her hand at the door to the guest room. Emma stopped, her hand on the doorknob and back to Regina, so Regina waited.

"Thank you, Regina. Again. For, for all of this. For letting me stay here. I know you're going through a lot right now and you really don't need to be dealing with my love life drama. I just...can't go back to that house right now."

"It's no trouble, truly. To be quite honest, I've appreciated the distraction from," Regina shrugged slightly, her hand gesturing into the air around them despite the fact that Emma was still facing away from her and couldn't see the motion, "everything. So I suppose you could say that my motives for helping you are not entirely selfless."

Emma looked over her shoulder, her bottom lip between her teeth as she raised an eyebrow, "Are they ever, Madame Mayor?" her words were teasing and her tone had no bite as she used the title they'd long since moved past and Regina couldn't help but cross her arms and chuckle in response.

"Perhaps not, Miss Swan." They grinned at each other, smiles far wider than the topic of conversation warranted, Regina's growing impossibly fond the longer she looked at the other woman. Taking a deep breath and tossing her head to move the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, she leaned in to rub a hand down Emma's shoulder and gave her forearm a light squeeze. "Goodnight Emma."

"Goodnight Regina."

Regina was exiting her bathroom, having brushed her teeth, washed the make up from her face, and deposited her dress in the hamper, when she heard the crash from the other room. Immediately she rushed for the door, only just realizing she was naked save for her underwear and grabbing the nearest thing to her bedroom door-the Harvard hoody-to pull over her bare skin. She was down the hall and through the guest room door in a flash, not stopping to think or knock, knowing as soon as she heard the crash that something was wrong with Emma.

Emma was kneeling down on one knee, one hand clutching desperately to the bedside table, the lamp that usually sat atop it shattered on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut and her other hand shaking violently in front of her.

"Emma?!" Regina rushed to her side, crouching beside her and just barely stopping herself from reaching out, unsure how the physical contact would be received. It was a vision, she'd seen the signs before, though the only time it had seemed anywhere near this debilitating had been when Emma had nearly allowed her to be strangled by Hyde. She was wearing nothing more than her bra and underwear, her skinny jeans on the floor nearby and shirt tossed across the bed showed she'd been midway through undressing for sleep when the vision had hit. After what felt like hours but was more likely only seconds Emma's eyes sprang open, tear spilling from them and dropping from her cheeks to the floor as she released her grip on the table, grabbed onto her still twitching arm, and slid gracelessly the rest of the way to the floor, gasping as she attempted to catch her breath. Emma's eyes slowly focused, turning to meet Regina's gaze with pain and fear so great held within them that it ripped the air from Regina's lungs. The careful control Emma held over her emotions, the way she'd always managed to compartmentalize them away and pull herself together, broke at the concern she saw in the amber-brown eyes before her. A heart wrenching sob tore its way from her throat and she toppled forward into Regina's waiting arms that wrapped around her and held her close, pulling her head to her chest and tucking it beneath her chin like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to leave Henry, my parents...you." Her hand grasped on to Regina's bicep, fingers curling so tightly that if it weren't for the thick cotton between them they would surely have left bruises. "Please, Regina. Please." She was begging, pleading though for what she wasn't sure, and the ache that blossomed in Regina's chest in response caused her own tears to fall unnoticed into the blonde hair below.

Eventually they found their way to the bed, sobs calming to sniffles and slow trickling tears. Regina pulled the covers back, wordlessly encouraging Emma to slide beneath them before she joined, turning on her side and moving to pull Emma to her. She stroked Emma's hair, now slightly damp from a combination of tears and stress-induced sweat, pulling it away from her face and smoothing it back against the pillow.

"Regina-"

'Shh, Emma. It's alright. Just sleep. I won't let you go, not tonight." Gentle kisses tumbled from her lips, placed reverently to the back of Emma's head. "You're safe with me."

* * *

When they awoke to the sounds of shouting the next morning they were still in each other's arms, Emma having rolled over in her sleep so that she could use Regina as something like a body pillow, her head on Regina's chest, one arm slung over her waist, one leg tangled with her own. With Henry's frightened yet angry tone echoing through the house they had no time to consider how overly intimate this all was, instead only sharing a knowing glance before they both jumped out of bed and rushed to his aid. On the way down the stairs Regina remembered Emma's near nakedness and twirled her hand in the air, conjuring one of her robes in a puff of purple smoke and tossing it to Emma who wrapped it around herself, just in time it seemed as she slipped on her socked feet and went sliding across the slick wood floors, steadying herself by grabbing the doorframe to the study and skidding inside the room where the shouting had come from. Regina had knocked herself a bit off balance when she'd thrown the robe, as a result finding herself struggling to maintain some semblance of grace as she too skidded around the corner to find her son, brave as ever, threatening the Queen on her behalf.


	7. Chapter 7-Off Balance

Henry was wonderful, smiling and vibrant despite the weight of being the author and having lived through the past couple of years of harrowing events. He was burdened by his worries for his family and his future, but not so much so that he couldn't relax and enjoy a home cooked meal with his mothers. Regina was smiling brightly, her eyes practically twinkling as she laughed at something Emma had said, and Emma chuckled in response. Even Emma, sweet, heartbroken, exhausted Emma was grinning so wide that it seemed her smile might actually have a chance a erasing the near permanent frown lines that had taken up residence on her face over the past year. The sun was streaming in through the windows, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast still lingering in the air with notes of cinnamon and cloves, nutmeg, bacon, and vanilla. It was practically perfect in every way.

The Queen felt like she was suffocating.

When they'd been cooking things had been alright. She'd been surprised when Regina slipped aside, willing to take a back seat role, opting to pull ingredients from the surrounding shelves and pass them over when needed and collect them to put them away once they'd served their purpose. Henry eagerly joined her at the stove and allowed her to walk him through the steps of the recipe as if he were still a young child just learning the basics. Emma had settled herself on the nearby barstool, content to watch and add running commentary ranging from how hungry she was to how she thought they should absolutely be making more bacon (which she kept stealing nibbles of when she thought no one was looking). At some point, while Emma had been tossing blueberries into the air and attempting to catch them in her mouth, which mostly ended up with blueberries hitting the floor, Regina had grown frustrated with her child-like antics and swatted her with a dish towel, resulting in Emma grabbing a handful of them and chucking them in Regina's direction. Regina dodged them, but with the Queen's back turned her reflexes weren't quite as sharp and she felt the little round fruit bang against the back of her head, one slipping down her collar, one flying over her shoulder and landing in the pan. Immediately she felt her free hand flexing, clenching into a fist. Her face felt flushed in anger almost instantly and she was about to whip around and snap at them when the strangest sensation began to overtake her fury. It started in her stomach and bubbled up through her chest, warm and tingling and very unsettling. She could feel it lodged in her throat before it clawed it's away free and burst forth from her mouth.

"I'm sorry, did you just...was that a...giggle?" At this the Queen finally did spin around to face the aggravating women behind her, again prepared to snap when her eyes fell on the positively shit-eating-grin spread over Emma's face and the way Regina was covering her own smile with the dish towel, her eyes twinkling.

"I do not giggle." Even as she said it she could feel the laughter surging forth, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards and her attempt to hold it in by sealing her lips shut only succeeding in causing an undignified spluttering when she could no longer stay silent. Soon all four of them were laughing, Emma's head thrown back in abandon, Regina bent halfway over and clutching her sides, Henry's eyes dancing between his three mothers like he couldn't quite believe this was happening, and the Queen herself holding her stomach as she laughed in a way she was fairly certain she never had. They laughed and laughed and laughed and the first batch of french toast burned in the pan, but none of them could bring themselves to care.

And it was wonderful. For a while, it was wonderful. But now, sitting around the table, the delicious meal finished and the conversation carrying on easily between Henry, Regina, and Emma, the Queen found herself more and more aware of how warm the room was, how full her stomach, how hard her heart seemed to be beating. Each breath seemed more and more difficult to take in, each moment stretching on longer. She tried to keep up with the chatter but she knew she'd lost the train of discussion and her face had fallen into a somewhat painful, forced smile some time ago and appeared to have gotten stuck that way, her spine growing more and more rigid with each passing second. This was too much. All of it was too much. There was so much love in this room, so much love in this family, and it was something she just couldn't handle. She'd never felt anything like this and it was thoroughly overwhelming. Regina was lucky enough to have spent 28 years learning and growing, and 10 of those years being taught to love by sweet Henry. She, on the other hand, had taken refuge in a dark corner of Regina's heart and mind, ardently refusing to be touched by the weakening influence of emotions like this. However, now she was here, with love forced into her heart by Regina and love surrounding every inch of this room and this house and she found herself struggling to stay afloat under the most unexpected feeling imaginable: guilt. It was swelling up inside her and making her skin crawl, every inch of her feeling like she just wanted to tear herself open and let all of the pain and sorrow bleed out of her body. She excused herself from the table, unable to stay seated for one more minute, with some pathetic excuse about wanting to clean the kitchen, and very nearly stumbled from the room in her haste to escape. By the time she reached the sink she could hardly stand, her knuckles white as she gripped the countertop for stability. Her breath was coming out in gasps, her eyes squeezed shut in a useless attempt to block out the flooding memories that felt like they could literally crush her. It seemed she could remember, somehow, the face of every person whose heart she had ripped out, whose life she had stolen, and they had chosen this moment to come back to her in wave after wave of pained cries and horrified screams. Her own heart was seizing and stuttering erratically within the confines of her chest as vision after vision of the hell she had wrought on so many innocent people rained down on her. She wasn't even aware she was sobbing until there were hands on her shoulders turning her away from the sink and fingers on her cheeks wiping away the rivers running down them.

"Regina?" Emma's voice was tender and concerned, far more tender than she deserved, and it only caused her sobs to grow harsher and stronger. Her brain was screaming at her to swat the gentle touches away, push Emma back, lash out and make her hurt for daring to approach her with such kindness when she was surely nothing but a monster who deserved to be punished for all she had done.

"Get off me." Her voice was choked and scratchy, coming out broken by tears. Emma dropped her hands to her sides but didn't back away, staying right up in the Queen's personal space, so close she had to stare at her feet in order to keep from looking Emma in the eyes.

"Hey, what happened? What's going on?" Again the tenderness was there and it was like acid against her skin. Her mind was fighting with her heart, the love Regina had shared with her pushing her to open up while every long-ingrained instinct told her to shut down, hide behind her walls and protect herself at all costs. Before either side could come out victorious, Emma made the mistake of reaching out again, her hands resting on the Queen's shoulders as if to pull her into a hug. All it took was the slightest tug on her body, pulling her forward towards Emma's waiting arms, and she snapped. She threw out her hands and Emma was flying backwards, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crunch and sticking there, suspended at an awkward angle by unseen restraints.

"I said get off me you fool! How dare you!? What right do you have to put your hands on me?" She was screaming, the growling sneer she had perfected over the years breaking through despite the tears still making their way down her face. She stalked forward, her fury growing as she tightened her magical hold on Emma. Though the physical pain she was inflicting was obvious, etched across the planes Emma's face, not a single hint of fear could be found on her features and this only served to further intensify the Queen's anger.

"You come to me like I am some fragile thing that needs to be coddled? You think I won't hurt you? Won't kill you? You think I couldn't rip your heart out? You think I won't?" She was right up against Emma now, her head tilting to the side as she regarded her, staring deeply into her eyes and finding hideous amounts of compassion within them. She let out a shattered cackle and placed a clawed hand over Emma's breastbone and was pleased to feel the slightest flinch against her finger tips.

"That's right Emma. You should be scared. I have killed thousands, **_thousands_**. I have taken hearts and snapped necks for far lesser reasons than your constant insolence. I have burned whole villages to the ground and yet you think you are safe enough to put your hands on me and try to make me weak in front of you?" Her voice had turned grating, passing through the air with a venomous hiss. Emma finally found her voice, pushing it forward against the pressure on her chest and on her throat.

"I know. I know you Regina."

"No!" The Queen shrieked, one hand grabbing Emma's chin and squeezing viciously, the one on her chest slamming through muscle and bone and wrapping shaking fingers around Emma's heart. "You have no idea what I'm capable of!"

"Let her go." The voice booming through the room from behind the Queen startled her, the hand around Emma's heart clenching and causing a pained gasp to escape her lips. No sooner had Emma cried out than the Queen felt the sharp burn of a hand shoving its way through her back and latching on to her own heart. The instant the hand enveloped her pounding organ there was a surge of magic that exploded out from her chest, blowing the three women apart and releasing Emma from her place on the wall. They each collapsed to the floor, gasping and trying to collect themselves.

"What the hell was that?" Emma was cradling one arm to her body, clearly injured but trying to ignore it. The Queen was too stunned to respond, knowing as soon as the magic hit her what it was but completely unable to accept it. Regina, on the other hand, was dragging herself back up to sitting, leaning heavily against the kitchen cabinets behind her, and regarding Emma with a mix of awe and sorrow in her eyes.

"Love." Regina's voice was a quivering whisper, her own hand fluttering over her chest where she could feel her heart thundering away deep inside. "True love."

The Queen's sobs returned with full force and her gaze refusing to lift from the floor. Emma couldn't speak, couldn't find enough brain power to really process what Regina had said or consider the implications, but she managed to drag herself forward with her good arm until she was right in front of the Queen, laying her hand atop one of the balled fists on the cold floor. Tears hit their joined hands as the Queen shook her head back and forth, her long hair falling around her shoulders and obscuring her face.

"I'm sorry Emma. I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

When the Queen had staggered her way from the dining room, clearly holding on to her composure by a thread, Regina had been about to follow when Emma had pushed back her chair and stood, smiling at her sadly with a look that said "I got this". Henry, wise beyond his years, watched Emma leave the room in search of the Queen and gently patted Regina's arm before excusing himself to his room with promises to return and do the dishes in a little while. When she heard the screaming start she couldn't say she was surprised, knowing all too well how she reacted when she felt cornered and vulnerable, and even when the sound of a body crashing against a wall reverberated through the house she stayed where she was, trusting Emma to be able to handle herself when faced with the rage of the Queen, after all she had succeeded in doing just that so very many times before. It was only when Regina felt her own heart seize in her chest, somehow knowing with absolute certainty that the Queen was seconds away from attempting to tear Emma's from her chest, that she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the fight.

She hadn't thought before she shoved her hand into the mirror image of her own body, hadn't really considered anything other than her need to keep the Queen from making a mistake she could never come back from, but when the magic had blown the three of them apart she had realized her own error as her body hit the floor and a love the strength of which she had only felt once before overwhelmed every fiber of her being.

Regina watched as Emma brought herself back to the wrecked Queen, letting her forehead rest against the top of the Queen's head, her uninjured arm linking their hands on the floor and holding her up. For a few minutes she just watched the pair, Emma staying silent but raising her eyes to lock Regina's and the amount of anguish in them stole her breath. She moved herself towards them, coming up to fold her body around the Queen. Apology after apology tumbled from the Queen's lips, seemingly unable to stop herself.

"Regina." Emma's voice was nearly inaudible, but it drew two sets of dark, wet brown eyes to meet her own. "You deserve love. I know you. I **_really_** know you. I need you to hear me when I tell you how much you deserve this life, all of this." Her gaze, which had been bouncing between the two of them, settled on the Queen then. "You did hurt people. You did kill thousands of people. You did start wars and break hearts and rip apart families. You were a monster. I'm not going to lie to you, you have done unforgivable things, but you did it all because of how fucking much you love, and you became the monster you were because of all that love you have, because it was used against you and taken advantage of. You say you don't know how to love very well but I think you're wrong. You know how to love with your whole heart, so much more fully than I could ever even hope to love, you just have to let yourself."

Regina's hands were wrapped around the Queen's stomach, and she could feel her grip tightening with each word that fell from Emma's lips. The raw honesty in Emma's voice was burning in her gut, and she knew the impact they were having on the woman in her arms as the Queen's breathing shallowed out and she leaned into Regina's hold for support. The Queen raised on hand to tuck an unruly blonde curl behind Emma's ear, her finger tips dancing along Emma's cheek and trailing down her jaw line with reverent wonder.

"You're an idiot."

Emma chuckled, shaking her head and bring her fingers to wrap around then ones still on her chin.

"That might be true, but that doesn't mean I'm not right."

Regina smiled, Emma smiled, the Queen attempted a smile but only managed to suck in another shaking breath and let the last of her tears fall.

"I don't understand any of this." Her voice was weak and small, so much more like the lost girl alone on those first dark nights in the King's castle.

"You will." Regina's timber was deep and certain, her lips right next to the Queen's ear as she spoke. "You will."

Hours later the Queen was tucked into Regina's bed, sleeping off the emotional toll the morning had taken on her, Henry had cleaned up from breakfast and headed to Violet's after being assured that the three of them were fine and that everyone's hearts would remain in their respective chests, Emma was nursing more than a few bruises and her recently dislocated arm after refusing to allow Regina to do any more than pop it back into place, and Regina was sitting by the fire in her study trying desperately to figure out just what had occurred between the three of them when true love's magic had blossomed from their chests. She knew she had shared her love with her other half, literally combining their hearts and splitting their light and their darkness. She knew she had professed her love for herself and so it was entirely plausible that the magic had been generated by nothing more than the love between the two of them...but something kept nagging at her. Because when she had linked their hearts and slid them back within their bodies, no rainbow of light had burst forth, no blinding power declaring for all to see the depth of their feelings for each other. She knew true love could be many things. She had it with Henry, and he had it with Emma. But still...it wasn't until her heart was linked with the Queen's which was linked to Emma's, their hands creating a physical chain of connected magic, that true love's light had lit the room and filled their souls with unbridled warmth.

What did all of this mean? She knew her other self would be struggling with this same dilemma when she regained consciousness, and would almost certainly find herself feeling even more unsettled and knocked off-kilter by it than Regina herself did. But what of Emma? Would Emma read anything into it? Would Emma even have noticed the significance? With everything else going on in Emma's life right now, between a vengeful fairy, a prophecy of her death, a fiancé who'd run off rather than step up and be the man she deserved, and the way her health seemed to literally be failing as the world sucked up every last bit of energy the savior had to offer, Regina couldn't fault her for not wanting to consider the possibility of whatever it was that had happened. She didn't want to pressure her, she didn't want to add another layer of stress to Emma's life, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them, something she had been missing for far too long, and something that, if she was right about why it had taken the three of them to create true love, could only be ignored for so long.


	8. Chapter 8-Bruises

Chapter 8:

It had been a week since that morning, a week since screaming and dislocated arms and true love's magic. And an eventful week it was. Emma had battled a giant spider that was apparently Gideon's murderous pet and had found herself very nearly killed by it. Regina had revealed the Queen's continued existence in Storybrooke to Snow and David (separately, of course) and found them surprising receptive, well, after they each got over their initial impulse to doubt her newfound goodness (or at the very least her newfound desire to live somewhere in the moral grey area). She and Snow had actually shared a tearful moment of bonding when the Queen had apologized for everything she'd ever put Snow through and vowed to do her best to reunite her with Charming. With that the Queen went to work picking up where Regina had left off attempting to undo the sleeping curse she'd placed on Snow and Charming's hearts, and Regina went to work trying to sort out the disturbing new side effects Henry was suffering due to his author powers. All three of them had found themselves so wrapped up in the many threats facing the town that they had hardly seen each other, nevermind had time to discuss the implications of all that had transpired between them.

The next time Regina saw Emma on her own it was 10 o'clock at night the following Sunday. She was walking back from the author's house where, after clearing away an abundance of spider webs, she'd spent hours trying to find out what was happening to Henry, coming up frustratingly empty handed and finally deciding to call it a night when, even with her glasses, she could no longer see straight. Thinking that walking rather than poofing (at some point Emma's annoyingly simplistic term for magical teleportation had snuck into her own vernacular) home might do her some good, she began the journey back across town, breathing in the crisp night air and using its freshness to help clear her head. She'd been lost in her own little world when a familiar voice cursing in frustration drew her attention. She'd looked up to find Emma standing in the street outside of Granny's, one shaking arm gripped tightly by her other hand, a seemingly fresh cup of coffee splattered across her feet and the bottoms of her pants.

"Emma?" Regina hurried forward, rushing to Emma's side.

"I'm fine, Regina. It's just these damn tremors. I just bought that fucking coffee...and these shoes." Emma looked over at her with her brow pinched and her lips drawn into a pout. Regina gave her a sympathetic smile before twirling her hand in the air between them.

"Well, my dear, it's a good thing I have magic. I may not be able to stop your hand from shaking but I can do something about your coffee, and your shoes." Within seconds Emma's shoes and pants were clean and dry, and two freshly steaming cups of coffee were in Regina's hands, one held out towards Emma. "It's a mocha, with extra whipped cream and cinnamon."

Emma gave her a grateful smile, letting her still trembling hand fall to her side and reaching out to take the proffered beverage with her steady one.

"I could have done that, you know."

"Of course you could, but I figured given the way your visions seem to impact your magic it might be the safer bet for me to help you out. It's no trouble, really." Regina gently squeezed Emma's shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile that said she knew Emma wasn't incompetent. They began to walk, side by side with shoulders so close they were nearly touching, not discussing where they were headed but both moving in the direction of Mifflin street.

"So, what are you doing out so late Regina? Is there some crisis I don't know about?"

"No, nothing new. I was just trying, and failing, to see if I could make any headway on figuring out what can be done to help Henry with his author powers." Emma pulled up short, the already deep worry lines creasing her forehead growing ever deeper.

"Has he had another episode? Is he ok?"

"He's fine, Emma. It was just the one...trance...or whatever that was. But since Issac was less than helpful I thought that maybe, if I can find what authors this has happened to before, I might be able to determine what it means and how to stop it from getting worse before it happens again. With the Queen working on breaking your parent's curse I had some time to spare, not that it's done me any good. I'm no closer to figuring out what's going on or what it means. Though they may have kept excellent records over what happened around them there doesn't appear to be any kind of a record of who the authors themselves were. Aside from Issac, I haven't found any hint of the identity or story of a single one of the them, and without the Apprentice to help us I'm starting to doubt I ever will."

Emma reached up and pulled her hair free from its ponytail, dragging her fingers through the long, lifeless locks in an attempt to detangle the snarled ends. Not for the first time Regina noticed how limp Emma's hair was, how both it and the woman herself seemed to have grown thinner over the past year. She couldn't help but worry that, despite Emma's promises to fight the prophecy of her death, she wouldn't be physically strong enough to put up much of a fight at all when the moment came. Somewhere along way, amidst the near constant battle that had been there lives since Emma had come to town and broken the curse, the strong, spirited, vibrant woman had started to crumble under it all and Regina was pained to realize that she wasn't sure when Emma had started to fade away. Still, as she stood contemplating how she could have missed how much the woman she called her best friend was struggling, Emma tied her hair up once again, straightened her back, and reached out to place a comforting hand on Regina's forearm.

"We'll sort it out Regina. We always do. We won't let anything happen to Henry." She slid her hand down and wrapped it around Regina's fingers, giving a slight squeeze. "He's our son, we got this." Emma attempted a confident smile but it hardly eased the worry still creasing her face, and it didn't distract from the remaining ever-so-subtle trembling in Emma's hand that Regina could feel through the fingers clasped around her own.

Emma could sense the way Regina's eyes were dancing over her face, taking in every little aspect of her features. She wanted to squirm, to look away, to find somewhere to hide. She knew Regina could read her like a book, in fact it seemed she'd been able to see right through her almost since the first day they'd met, and she was certain she could see past the brave face she was putting on, but she hoped Regina would also see that she really needed her to just let her be brave for them right now. And, of course, Regina did. She turned her hand over in Emma's and gave her own squeeze in response before dropping the hold and turning to continue on her way home, the invitation for Emma to follow unspoken but obvious in the way she hesitated for just a second after a couple of steps until she heard Emma start to move towards her. They continued in a mostly comfortable silence, both getting lost in their own wandering thoughts, until they found themselves at Regina's door. Emma stopped at the walkway, only then realizing that she'd been intending to head to her own house from the diner but had instead followed Regina straight across town to the mansion.

"I guess I should head home."

"Would you like to come in for a drink?"

They spoke at the same time, each chuckling awkwardly as a result.

"If you've something to do, please don't let me keep you." Regina's eyes were cast downwards and she seemed to be actually fidgeting, shuffling one high-heeled foot in a truly uncharacteristic manner. Over the past week the two women had hardly seen each other, but when they had there had been a lingering tension, the aftershocks of the previous weekend clearly hanging in the air between them and causing Regina to revert a bit into the oh-so-professional mayor mood that she rarely used around Emma anymore. It also brought out this physical shyness, something that Emma thought was likely a throwback to a younger Regina that was coming out now that some of the regal poise of the Queen had been removed from her body.

"Nah, I was just gonna go home and break into Hook's leftover rum. No reason I can't have a drink here instead." Emma grinned and earned herself a rueful shake of the head from Regina.

"We won't be having rum here, my dear."

"Oh of course not. I know you don't drink the stuff. Much too common for a Queen like you." Regina hummed in agreement, unlocking the front door and standing aside to usher Emma into the house.

10 minutes later saw them seated silently in the study, a cold beer in Emma's hand and a glass of red wine in Regina's. Regina had her feet tucked up under her on the couch, her shoes having been left carefully placed by the front door, her gaze unfocused as she looked out the window. Emma couldn't help but study Regina, taking in the way her just past chin length hair had begun to frizz ever so slightly, the ends flipping a bit more wildly than usual, and the way her arms wrapped around her body though not quite as protectively as they had when she and the Queen had been truly two halves instead of a shared whole.

Regina could feel Emma's eyes on her, she always could and, though she'd be lying if she said she didn't find it at least a little unnerving, it was something she was used to and something she had long since given up trying to hide from. She knew she was guilty of doing the same thing to Emma, she'd spent more than a little time letting her eyes roam over the other woman, taking in everything about her body language and the slightest facial expressions. When they'd first met she'd used what she could glean from her observations against Emma, pulling out information that could tell her when she'd gotten under Emma's skin and hit a raw nerve. Now she preferred to use what she learned to see inside Emma's walls, and she was sure Emma was doing the same at that very moment.

"So...how's your other half? I don't think I've seen her since..." There was an unspoken tension as Emma's sentence trailed off, both of them remembering how the Queen had pulled into herself after threatening and injuring Emma the previous weekend. She'd awoken sometime in the middle of the night and slipped out of the bed she was sharing with Regina and left the house, leaving no note or sign of where she was going. Regina had known where the Queen was, more or less, something in her able to just sense that she'd retreated to the safety of her vault. Maybe it was just that she knew it's what she would have done when feeling similarly vulnerable and out of sorts, or maybe it was more than that. Aside from the two times they'd met up to discuss things with Snow and David Regina hadn't seen or heard from the Queen.

"She's been working on breaking your parent's curse, I imagine that's keeping her quite busy. Despite our familiarity with sleeping curses we've never had to find a work-around for breaking them, especially with true love's kiss off the table." She turned back to Emma on the other end of the couch, seeing the way Emma's mouth twitch downward at the words "true love" and her brow pinched. Her face always did give her away. Regina watched silently for another moment as Emma took a slow drag of her beer, avoiding making eye contact and looking at the fireless fireplace, her free hand coming up to knead the muscles of her shoulder.

"Does your shoulder still hurt?" Emma shrugged, finally looking back at Regina.

"Not much, not really."

"You should heal it, or let me heal it. There's no need to be in pain when we can do something about it."

"It's ok, really Regina. It's nothing an ice pack and some ibuprofen can't handle."

Silence stretched between them again, each one sipping their drink and getting lost in their own thoughts once more. Regina wasn't sure how long they remained like that, only realizing that some time must have passed when she went for another drink of wine and discovered her glass empty. As she rose to refill it Emma broke the quiet of the room.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"I didn't ask **what** the Queen was doing, I asked **how** she was doing."

Regina considered the question, and her response, for a moment, buying herself time while she poured another rather full glass of wine and returned to the sofa.

"She's scared. For her I imagine all of this," she let her hand gesture between the two of them, "is rather like if I had been thrown into a supportive family immediately upon arriving in Storybrooke 32 years ago. We all saw the results of my missteps with how I reacted to the first bit of genuine care shown to me back then." Guilt and sorrow flashed across Regina's face and it was obvious she was thinking of a little boy whose life she had torn apart in an attempt to grasp onto something that felt like love. "She is ill-equipped to handle this level of caring, even with my love in her heart."

"But it's not like this is brand new to her. I mean, she was inside you all this time, right? So she's been around for all this stuff and been a part of everything that's changed you."

"Well, she was there, but you have to understand that she was fighting all of this tooth and nail every single step of the way. To her everything I've built, everything I have in my life that has made it so full, was always abhorrent. She's spent the past several years trying to keep me from giving in to what to her feels like weakness, like opening myself up to being used and tricked. She was created because I let myself believe in love and hope and it was used against me, so the idea that love and hope could bring happiness to my life, or to her life, seems impossible. Now she has that love in her heart because I put it there, but her mind and every instinct, everything she thinks she knows, is screaming at her that this has to be a trick or a lie."

Emma didn't speak, instead allowing Regina's words to sink in. Somewhere between becoming the Dark One and returning from Storybrooke's hellish doppelganger Emma had become less impulsive with her words. Her silences we longer, she chose to speak less freely and with much more consideration than before. In some ways it seemed like a maturation of Emma's thought process, but Regina also saw it as yet another way in which the woman next to her was steadily fading away. Emma's hand drifted to Regina's knee and rubbed it gently.

"You know, I don't think I've even bothered to ask you how you are doing with all of this. You spent so long fighting her and now she's just...here. Are you ok?" Regina chuckled, patting the hand on her knee.

"Don't worry about me, dear. I'm fine."

"Come on Regina, this woman is running around, having spent the past couple of months literally trying to tear your family apart and turn you evil, and now she's essentially the super moody identical twin sister you never asked for. That can't be easy. Where is your head at in all of this?" Regina took another long swallow of her wine while Emma downed the rest of her beer and placed the empty bottle on the coffee table (on top of a coaster, for once).

"I honestly don't know how I feel. It's a lot and I haven't really had a moment to breathe and think about everything. I suppose I'll have to do that at some point, and we'll have to figure out what to do with the Queen when things settle down, but then again she's her own person and, as long as she's not out to harm anyone, what happens to her is really more her decision than mine." Regina could feel herself tensing, thoughts about this whole ridiculous situation that she'd found herself, the thoughts she'd been trying her best to keep at bay so she could focus on the bigger problems at hand, began to swim through her mind.

"True, but I know you still feel responsible for her. You care, it's what you do. Admit it, you're a big softy." Emma gave Regina a knowing smirk, clearly trying to lighten the mood she'd brought on with her question and give Regina the breather from the troubled thoughts she could see dancing behind her dark eyes that she so obviously needed. Though she did want to get Regina talking, knowing that it was important and that no one had really bothered to consider how Regina was coping, she also wouldn't push her when she knew she truly wasn't ready. Regina let out a huff, attempting to seem irritated when it was obvious she was grateful for the out Emma had given her, and punched her lightly in the arm in response only to see Emma wince, a reminder of her still healing shoulder.

"Come here you idiot." Regina tugged Emma closer, just beginning to feel the two hearty glasses of wine loosening her body. Emma grumbled something under her breath but did as she was told, turning on the couch so Regina had full access to her still-tender arm, back, and shoulder. Regina's touch was soft and warm, even before Emma felt the oh so familiar magic begin flowing into her skin. Immediately, as fingers gently and skillfully kneaded aching muscles, she could feel the torn tissues knitting themselves back together, the deep bruising fading away. In less than a minute she knew her injuries were completely healed, and yet Regina's hands remained, slowly working their way over to Emma's neck, her other shoulder, and moving down her spine, the pressure of her fingers becoming a bit more intense until she hit upon a bruise hidden beneath her shirt and Emma sucked in a sharp breath.

"Emma...?" Regina breathed out, placing her palms flat against Emma's shoulders, careful not to inflict any more pain.

"It's nothing Regina. It's just some bruises. I promise I'm ok. The shoulder was the worst of it and look," She looked at Regina over her shoulder and gave it an exaggerated roll, "all better, thanks to you." Regina scowled.

"Yes, well, you should have let me help you with that a week ago, and you should let me see what I can do about the rest of your injuries now. It's really the least I can do. " Emma watched her closely while she spoke, seeing the flicker of guilt on her face.

"Regina," she raised one hand to clutch one of Regina's that still rested on her shoulder, "this wasn't your fault. You didn't do this to me. She did, but that's ok too. I'm ok, and I've forgiven her." Regina dropped her eyes to her lap and hummed low in her throat, one hand falling from Emma's back but one, still held firm under Emma's own, remained. "You're not gonna let this go until I let you help me are you?"

Regina lifted her gaze and one eyebrow quirked upwards. Emma sighed and shook her head, scooting away from Regina just a bit on the couch. Regina was about to ask where she was going when all of a sudden Emma was standing and reaching down to the hem of her shirt and dragging it up over her head and Regina forgot how to speak at all. Somehow, in all their years of having known eachother, it became suddenly very clear how little of Emma's body she'd ever actually seen. Sure, she'd seen her in everything from formalwear to jeans and tank tops to pajamas, but aside from the one time, oh so many years ago now, when Emma had swung open her door to her wearing nothing more than a white tank top and her bright red underwear, they'd been too busy fighting the monster of the week to even do something as simple as take Henry to the beach for a weekend swim. Even in Neverland Regina had used magic to keep herself clean and she'd been too concerned about Henry and Tinkerbell and Rumple and Pan to give a second thought to how it was Emma seemed to be staying reasonably fresh (she must have been bathing in a river somewhere, Regina considered before shaking her head and focusing on the moment at hand).

Standing in the middle of Regina's study, lit by the moon and the soft warm lights Regina preferred to fill the space with as they mimicked the glow of a fire, Emma was bare, 100%, from the waist up, and Regina found herself having to actually remember to breathe.

Emma's back was to her, and it seemed she'd forgone a bra that day, as she was completely topless. There were bruises along her shoulder blades (which seemed far too prominent), and down atop each knot of her spine (every single one a ridge visible under the tender flesh that just barely kept them within her body), and with every inhale Regina felt certain she could count every one of Emma's ribs. The purple, green, and yellow discoloration made it clear just how much violence had been used to throw Emma's boney frame against the kitchen wall and seeing it made Regina's heart ache. While she was lost in her own thoughts, Emma moved back towards the couch and sat herself down, her back turned entirely to Regina, her arms crossed around her front self-consciously with her shirt clutched in her hands.

Seconds ticked by and neither of them moved, the only sound in the room their breathing, both slightly more rapid than called for and seemingly louder than normal. Emma cleared her throat.

"Um...Regina?"

"Hmm?"

"It's kinda cold in here, so if you're not going to do anything can I put my shirt back on?"

Hardly even moving at all Regina flicked the fingers on her right hand and a small flame shot from them to the fireplace, igniting it instantly and causing a flickering light and gentle warmth to spread across the room.

"Or you could just do that..." Emma trailed off with an awkward chuckle, her shoulders tensing even further as she sat feeling entirely too exposed and wondering why exactly she'd thought taking her shirt off was a good idea. She felt Regina's hands come up, not quite touching her and yet somehow she was aware they were there, right behind her, hovering over her damaged flesh. Another 10 seconds ticked by, then 20. Emma felt goosebumps rising on her skin despite the added warmth from the fire.

"I'm going to touch you now. Is that alright?" Regina's voice was cracking and lower than usual and it caused the goosebumps on Emma's skin to raise even further. She knew that if she spoke it would come out an undignified squeak so she went with a solid nod instead. Not even a breath later and Regina's hands, warm and smooth, were on her and her heart was stuttering as she felt magic pouring into her skin. Fingers danced over her back, tracing the marks there and healing them as they went, easing not just the bruises but the pain that lay deeper within her muscles and bones. She could feel Regina following her spine and her ribs, moving up to her shoulder blades and then back down to the place where the back of her pelvis was just a little too close to the surface of her lower back. The touches were feather light yet she could feel them all the way through her core, causing a soothing calm to spread from deep within her and radiate out to her limbs. Emma's eyes slid shut, her heading dropping forward and her crossed arms falling to her lap.

Regina knew she had long since healed all of Emma's bruises and should really back away, but she found herself entirely unable to remove her hands from Emma. She traced each bone, each old scar she'd never known existed, and found a longing bubbling up from deep within her gut, desperately wishing she could heal more than just the recent damage. She wanted with every fiber of her being to be able to put the strength and vibrancy back into the body beneath her hands. She thought of curses and Dark Ones and heartbreaking choices and how none of this would be happening at all if she hadn't been so dead set on vengeance that she forced Snow White's daughter into the role of Savior. Yes, everything that had happened had brought Henry into her life, and no, she would never change the path of her life if it meant she would lose him, but that didn't mean she didn't struggle under the weight of intense guilt for everything she had put Emma through. This woman had become her closest friend, the only true confidant she'd ever had, and she knew that somehow even their relationship was only possible because of the choices she made that had brought them here. Had she not relentlessly pursued Snow White, had she never cast the curse, her relationship with Henry was not the only precious thing in her life that she would have missed out on. She had never had anyone else like Emma in her life, someone who knew her dark and her light and stood steadily by her side and she couldn't imagine how she would have survived the past few years without her constant presence. Suddenly, looking at the too thin frame of a woman who was once all slightly tan skin, sturdy muscles, and perfect princess curls, Regina felt undeniably selfish because, when it came down to it, she wouldn't change even the worst of her past for fear of losing what she had with Henry and Emma and yet the position she'd put Emma in as Savior was quite literally and obviously killing her. Emma, who was so wonderful and so strong and so determined to give everyone the happiness she believed they each deserved, was slipping away more with each day and, if the prophecy came true, would very shortly cease to exist as anything but a memory. Perhaps changing her past would mean sacrificing the only true happiness she'd ever known but it would have saved Emma this horrible fate and she knew she should want that, especially given that, as they sat there and her hands continued to map the body beneath her fingertips, she realized that she wasn't sure she could ever be happy again if Emma was stolen from her life. But still her head and her heart clung to Henry and said that no, she would do it all over again if it brought her little prince into her arms.

Regina didn't even notice that she'd begun crying, or that Emma had been looking at her over her shoulder and quietly saying her name with her brow furrowed in confusion, until she turned fully in Regina's arms, concern written all over her face and hands coming up to catch the tears before they fell. Emma was naked from the waist up, her bare breasts completely exposed to Regina as if it was somehow the most natural thing in the world, her only focus on reaching Regina and finding out what was causing her to become increasing distraught.

"Em-m-a." The word broke in three, trying desperately to make its way free from Regina's tear-choked throat.

"What is it Regina? What's wrong? What can I do?" Emma looked stricken, so rare was it for Regina to crack like this. She kept her hands on Regina's face, wiping away tears as fast as they fell, never once moving to cover herself up or back away from the emotion spilling forth. Regina's tears only multiplied, turning into actual sobs as she watched Emma struggling to figure out how to help. That's all she ever tried to do. Always looking to help, to fix, to bring back the happy endings, to ensure everyone's safety, to dive into the darkness if it meant sparing someone she loved from the same fate.

"You have to fight." Regina spluttered, horrified by her own inability to get her emotions under control, but determined to get her point across.

"What?" Emma was clearly trying to figure out where Regina's thought process had taken them.

"You can't die Emma. You can't just die. I don't care what it means for you to live, I don't care what has to happen to make it possible. I don't care if we are all trapped in some alternate reality, I don't care if there's a curse or if everyone is damned to hell. You can't just die. You have to fight." Regina was practically shrieking at this point and Emma was struck dumb for a moment by the sheer force of Regina's emotional declaration.

"Regina I-of course I'm going to fight. I'm not going down willingly, I would never do that."

"Yes, you would. You're an idiotic hero, remember? You do ridiculous things like throw yourself at the mercy of the oldest and most powerful dark magic we know of just to save Evil Queens from a well-deserved fate."

"I had to do that. You've worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed!" Her words echoed the ones she'd shouted through swirling, howling blackness and Emma felt herself getting defensive, unable to understand why Regina always jumped down her throat whenever her choice to take on becoming the Dark One in order to save Regina from it came up.

"Has it never occurred to you that losing you would impact my happiness? Are you really that dense?"

Emma's hands stilled on her face, no longer brushing along her cheekbones to catch the still falling tears, and she tilted her head and squinted at Regina like she was trying to force something slightly blurry to come into focus before her eyes. Finally she dropped her hands and looked down at them in her lap.

"Look Regina, I don't know what you want me to say here. I know you hate what I did but I'd do it again, every time." As she spoke she seemed to become aware of how physically exposed she was and she crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to cover up her nakedness. Regina's fingers on her chin pulled her focus from her own lap and back up to her face.

"Emma, I don't hate you. I could never, and we both know how hard I've tried to do just that. I just...I don't think you understand how much you mean to me, and I don't think you realize that dying to save us might take away more happiness than it's worth." Now it was Regina who had her hands on Emma's face, stroking gently along the apples of her cheeks with her thumbs.

A deep stillness took up residence between them, their awareness zeroing in on one another and the rest of the room falling away until all either of them could see was the other's eyes.

"Promise me you'll live." Regina's voice was barely even loud enough to be called a whisper but she didn't dare speak louder and break this bubble where the two of them were the only people that mattered in the whole world.

"I promise I'll try."

"That's not enough."

"I can't promise more than that and you know it. I'm sorry but I can't, it would only be a lie if I did and I won't lie to you."

Regina gave her a sad, watery smile at that and it made Emma's heart ache. She wanted so desperately to be able to take the pain out of Regina's smile but she knew she couldn't do what she was asking.

"Please?" Regina's voice was small and pleading in a way Emma had only heard once before, when they were sharing a room on the Jolly Roger on the way to Neverland and Regina had been talking in her fitful sleep.

"What do you want me to do Regina? How can I make you believe me when I say I don't want to die, that I am going to do everything I can to stay here, to stay with my family, with Henry, with you?"

Regina didn't answer at first, offered her nothing as she closed her eyes and leaned her head further to the side where Emma's hand was fully cupping her cheek. She seemed to be trying to center herself, or gather her thoughts. Emma could see the way she was taking deep breaths in through her nose and she could feel the exhales puff out from her lips and ghost past her own face due to how close they had been drawn to one another as they spoke. When brown eyes fluttered open and looked back up at her through dark eyelashes still wet with tears, she found herself breathless, which turned out to be a good thing when she heard the next words out of Regina's mouth as she was fairly certain that if she had been attempting to breathe just then she would have choked on thin air.

"Kiss me."

Oddly, despite the fact that those two words were the last thing she had ever thought she'd hear, Emma found her body ready to comply before she'd even fully processed the request, and so she shut down her brain which immediately tried to over-think things and let herself follow her instincts, leaning in without a moment's hesitation and catching the nervous exhalation that sprung from Regina's slightly parted lips with her own before their mouths connected.


	9. Chapter 9-Running

The kiss...the kiss had been... **everything**. Emma hadn't even been ready for it, hadn't ever thought it would happen, but as soon as her lips pressed to Regina's she knew, deep down in her soul, that it was everything she'd been waiting for and never known she was missing. The noise that struggled to break free from Regina's throat as soon as their lips connected, something between a truly desperate whine, sob, and moan, sent an incredible heat radiating straight down her spine. The heat in contrast with the softness of Regina's lips was so utterly captivating that she could not for one second get her brain to kick into gear and consider that maybe, just maybe, this was out of character, that this was something they should not be doing, at least not without discussing first. Even if she'd tried to pull her brain back into the moment, it would have been shoved back into its fog when Regina's tongue slipped out and ran along her bottom lip before her teeth grabbed a hold of it and pulled with just enough force to draw a moan from Emma's chest. It was as if the entire world narrowed down and was existing solely between their mouths, their parted lips, and their rapidly shallowing breaths.

And then suddenly it was happiness, warmth, tenderness, a future, all dancing in her mind and within a second she could feel the violent trembling start in her wrist and move to the fingertips that had, at some point, found their way into Regina's hair. And no, just no. This could not be that. This could not be happening. This could not be everything. This could not be happiness and a future. This was Regina and Regina might be everything but she could **_not_** be everything **_like that_**. She couldn't be because she was still mourning a soulmate. She couldn't be because Emma had just lost Hook, a man she'd gone to hell and back for, a man she'd been engaged to less than 2 weeks ago and that all had to mean more than just some throw away relationship. She couldn't be because Emma was the Savior and Saviors don't get happy endings. She couldn't be because Emma had a prophecy to fulfill and a near certain death fast approaching and she could not, would not, let Regina love her only to leave her with yet another dead love.

The shaking of her hand did not go unnoticed by Regina, nor did the way her lips had stopped responding to her kisses or the way the look on Emma's face had turned to one of terror. Regina pulled back to look at her, to try to make eye contact, and Emma could see the concern on her features that mingled with hurt and more than a little fear. Those were two more reasons why this could absolutely not be happening. Whatever this was had just barely started and she was already hurting Regina. She could not, would not, be responsible for any more pain in Regina's life, not if she could help it.

"I'm-I'm sorry." was all she managed to mutter before she poofed away in a cloud of silvery smoke.

She ran. She knew she was running, but she also knew she had to. It was better for Regina this way. It had to be.

* * *

When Emma reappeared she was only slightly surprised to find that she'd poofed herself to Regina's vault. The look that the Queen, who was sitting on a chaise across the room, gave her said that she was rather more surprised than Emma herself. After giving her a quick onceover, taking in her reddened cheeks, the hair half pulled from its ponytail, her eyes lingering for just a moment too long on Emma's topless chest and torso, she simply arched one eyebrow at her, stood, moved towards her and, with a wave of her hand, conjured a soft grey Henley to cover up Emma's nakedness and two apple martinis (red, not green), holding one out for Emma to take. With only a moment's hesitation Emma reached out and took the proffered beverage, gulping it down in two swallows. The Queen raised both eyebrows at that but still said nothing as she gave another little wiggle of her fingers and Emma watched as her glass refilled. She took another large sip of her newly refilled drink and then moved past the Queen, flopping gracelessly down onto the chaise and only just barely managing not to spill her drink in the process. The Queen remained silently watching her, she could feel the eyes on her but avoided looking at her opting instead to stare at the ceiling and hope the strong drink in her hand would dull the ache in her chest and quiet the thoughts tumbling around in her head.

"So, Miss Swan, would you care to tell me why it is you're barging into my private property in the middle of the night or do you just intend to sit there and drink all of my liquor?"

Emma allowed her head to loll to one side, scowling at the Queen.

"You're the one who made the drinks, I didn't ask you too, and besides how can I be 'drinking all your liquor' if you just magicked it up from thin air?"

"It's the principal of the thing, Emma." The Queen gave her a haughty look before taking a sip of her own drink and daintily plucking the apple slice that garnished the glass off with two fingers before taking bite. They settled into what was clearly a stalemate, the Queen refusing to back down from inquisitively regarding her, and Emma refusing to speak about what had brought her to the vault.

Emma had just finished her second martini, the Queen more than halfway through her own, when possibly the most unexpected and random of questions popped into her head.

"How old are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"How old are you?"

"Miss Swan, that is a highly inappropriate thing to ask a Queen."

"Oh come on Regina, it's not that big of a deal." The Queen moved over to a chair that looked rather a lot like a throne and sat down with far more straight-backed elegance than should be humanly possible at this hour.

"So I'm Regina now, am I?"

"Yup." Emma said accentuating the end of the word with an exaggerated pop before shoving her own apple slice into her mouth and crunching down on it, returning her gaze to the ceiling. As the minutes ticked by she began to feel the alcohol hitting her system, warming her from the inside out and sending a pleasant tingling to her fingers and toes. There was a haze settling over her mind it she could feel her muscles relaxing as if she were sinking into the couch. She glanced over at her empty glass and tried wiggling her own fingers at it for a refill but nothing happened. She tried a second time and again, nothing. Suddenly, as she watched, a trickle of red appeared in the bottom of the glass, the level of liquid steadily rising until it made it to just below the brim at which point it stopped, a sprinkling of sugar dusted the rim, and a thin slice of apple blinked into existence balanced perfectly half in and half out of the drink.

"You should really practice more. So much talent, all going to waste."

"Hey, I was the Dark One for months! I know how to use my magic!"

"Mmm, clearly dear."

"Look, just cause I can't conjure a martini doesn't mean I'm any less competent with my magic than you are." Emma sat up and swung her legs back to the floor, grabbing her newly refreshed drink and causing some of the liquid inside to slosh over the edge and onto her fingers.

"Oh my dear, you truly have no idea what I'm capable of if you think your level of magical knowledge is anywhere near mine." The Queen's tone was mocking and had a hint of a growl to it, but it was not harsh. In fact she seemed almost playful. Emma looked offended and more than a little annoyed, giving an aggravated huff and crossing her one arm petulantly over her chest before taking another long gulp of her drink.

"You never answered my question Regina."

"What question?" The Queen was playing dumb though she knew exactly what it was Emma was asking.

"Your age. How old are you?"

"Before I answer you tell me, would you ask **_your_** Regina this?"

" ** _My_** Regina?" Emma looked confused in a way that told the Queen that the strength of her drinks, and the speed at which the Savior was downing them, was just starting to hamper her ability to think clearly.

"You know what I mean. Would you ask her? I assume your answer is no since you clearly never have or you'd have no need to ask me."

"Whatever Regina, if you're gonna get all weird about it then forget it." Emma put her glass down on the nearby table with more force than necessary, her body language telling the Queen that while she was trying to keep the conversation light and seemingly meaningless, something was clearly bothering her deeply. She crossed both arms over her body, tucking her hands under her armpits as if to hide them, her leg was jiggling and bouncing up and down, her eyes darting around rather than making eye contact.

"How about this. You try to figure out my age, and I'll tell you if you guess correctly?"

Emma rolled her eyes, finally looking directly at the Queen.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Why do you want to know so badly? Look, Emma, humor me. With what you know of my life you should be able to puzzle out my age if it's really that important to you."

"Alright fine. What is this, some version of 20 questions?"

"Sure dear, if that's how you'd like to do this. You get 20 questions about my life and I'll tell you yes or no. If you correctly guess my age at the end I'll tell you, if not, well I suppose you'll just have to try harder next time." The Queen knew she was being evasive, and other than the fact that her age, what with curses and lost time, was a bit of a touchy subject for her, she was mostly being secretive to try to keep the other woman engaged in conversation and perhaps distract from whatever was so clearly troubling her. Emma, never one to shy away from a challenge, looked at her with a curious expression on her face before squinting her eyes as if scrutinizing her appearance. The Queen felt herself draw up under the visual inspection, her spine straightening even further than usual (if that we possible) despite the fact that she knew Emma would gather no clues as to her real age from her looks. Time may have started moving again since the curse was broken and with its passage she had certainly gained a few new wrinkles, but she still look far younger than her years.

"Alright. You've got a deal." Emma watched the Queen carefully, taking in for the first time since she'd arrived at the vault the skin tight sapphire blue velour dress she'd hardly noticed. It was truly stunning, clearly something from her Enchanted Forest wardrobe, with a high neckline and just enough padding on the shoulders to enhance the noble line of her collarbones. There was beautiful jeweled filigree in blue stones, all slightly lighter shades than the dress itself, along the neckline and at the Queen's waist, drawing the eye to the shape of her body. The Queen seemed to hold up well under Emma's intense stare, her face remaining impassive as she raised her martini to her lips and took a sip, licking the rim to gather some of the red and white sugar there into her mouth just before she pulled the glass away and turned to Emma, an eyebrow cocked and a half smile crossing her lips that said she knew Emma was looking at her just a little too long for it to be a part of their little game. Emma shook her head and shut her eyes, drinking more of her own martini before thinking that maybe more alcohol was not what she needed.

"Ok Queenie, let's play."

"Do get on with it, Savior."

"Ok, so...you were Snow's stepmother...that makes you older than Snow."

"Is that a question?"

"Um...yeah?"

"Then yes, I'm older than Snow."

"And Snow was what, 10 when she met you?"

"Yes."

"And you married her father, but I think you were younger than him, right?"

"Yes, I was younger than the King." A flicker of something crossed the Queen's face before she pushed it aside, coming and going so quickly that Emma would have missed it had she not been paying such close attention. As it was she took the Queen's reaction as a clue, considering what it might mean.

"You were substantially younger than him, weren't you?" Another flicker of that same something that made Emma feel like maybe this game wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Yes."

"Ok...so you were...20?"

"No."

"21?"

"No." There is was, that flicker again but stronger this time and it had Emma's stomach sinking as she realized her guesses were going in the wrong direction.

"Um...19?"

"No." The Queen was trying to looking unaffected but she was failing miserably, the subtle shift in her posture showing how uncomfortable she was with the current line of questioning.

"Look, Regina, we can stop. I don't really need to know your age, so if you want to, we can stop. Do you want me to stop?"

"You're wasting questions Emma." Emma tried to read the other woman's thoughts through her expression but she was refusing to look directly at her, instead running her finger along her glass collecting condensation on its tip and watching the droplet fall to the floor as if it were fascinating. With her voice squeaking a bit in a way that showed that she too was beginning to feel how touchy a subject she had stumbled upon, Emma continued.

"18?"

"Yes." The Queen's voice was nearly a whisper and after a beat she followed up with, "Only just." Emma felt bile rise in her throat but decided to push onwards rather than linger on something that was obviously making the other woman supremely uncomfortable.

"So, 8 years between you and Snow. Ok...and I know Snow was 18 when her father died. So that would make you 28 when you..." She trailed off, unsure how this topic would go over given how the Queen had reacted so far. Much to her relief the Queen seemed to slip back into her comfortably haughty persona, her eyes twinkling as she finished Emma's sentence.

"When I drove Snow from the castle and wrenched power from her meek little hands? Indeed dear, the very same age you were when you rushed into my town and attempted your own little overthrow of my reign."

"Hahaha, very funny Regina."

"Not at all, dear, not at all." Emma ignored the slight growl in the Queen's tone, continuing to think out loud as she attempted to sort out the timeline of Regina's life.

"Since I know the Snow was my age when I got here, or at least she thought she was, that means you were the Queen, "

"The **Evil** Queen"

"The **Queen** for 10 years, putting you at 38 when you cast the first dark curse." Emma tried not to dwell on the sudden realization that this meant that Regina had been alone and in so much pain that she thought unimaginable violence was her only option for a solid 10 years, trying instead to stay in the moment and not take this discussion down any more emotional side-trips given the short fuse and unpredictable mood swings of the woman currently watching her carefully as if she knew exactly what Emma was thinking, or trying not to think. "So, 38 when you arrived in Storybrooke, right?"

"Yes."

"And then you were here for my whole life, 28 years by the time I arrived and 5 years since so you're..." Emma went silent, calculating, feeling her fingers moving ever so slightly as she tried to keep track of the addition without actually counting it out on them. Suddenly her face went slack and she stared up at Regina, her mouth hanging open. "Oh my god, Regina you're 71 years old? You're a senior citizen?"

Her eyes swept up and down over the Queen's body, once again taking in her features and the way the dress she was wearing accentuated everything from her curves to her skin tone to the glossy shine of her deep brown hair. The Queen couldn't help the laugh that bubbled forth from her lips as she stood, turning and giving Emma an eye full of the deep v-cut that was the back of her dress before moving to the large mirror on the wall and scrutinizing her own features, looking for wrinkles and pulling at the corners of her eyes as if to smooth them away.

"Why so shocked? Can't handle having a Grandmother that looks better than you do?"

"Oh hell no Regina, just no, you are not my Grandmother. I don't care what our twisted family tree says."

"So you do agree I'm better looking than you?"

"What? I never said that!"

"No perhaps not, but you certainly didn't object." The Queen twirled back around spotting exactly which part of her anatomy the Savior's eyes had been fixated on before a blush rose to Emma's cheeks and she busied herself by taking yet another gulp of her drink and then gave the now once again empty glass a look that said all of this was clearly its fault. The Queen couldn't help but grin wickedly, finding herself quite enjoying the way Emma was reacting to her body. Of course she'd known Emma found her, or rather Regina, attractive. It had been obvious from the day they'd met, and it was something she had tried her damndest to get Regina to take advantage of back when they were at eachother's throats. She'd known it would be simple to seduce the other woman, perhaps it would even have proved to be an enjoyable distraction from the monotony of her life as she had no problem admitting her own physical attraction to the nuisance of a woman. Had she put in even the least bit of effort it would have been so easy to use Emma's desire and their physical chemistry to gain the upper hand. Back then all it would have taken was a few tender moments mixed with lust to break Emma's heart and she was sure the pesky woman would have fled Storybrooke, despite her newfound son, leaving her victorious and her curse intact. But, try as she might, that was a line Regina had never been willing to cross and it was only since Regina had poured some of her love into her darkened heart that she'd started to understand why that was. There was something there, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, a depth to the way she felt when she looked at the woman sitting before her, and she had the sneaking suspicion that, had she followed through on her desire to crush her heart, metaphorically speaking, Emma's would not have been the only heart damaged in the process. She frowned at her own empty glass, her emotions were starting to spill over from the boxes she tried so desperately to keep them neatly tucked away in and she found herself thinking that perhaps Emma's earlier accusatory look at her drink had been right and that the damned alcohol was getting the best of her.

They had been quiet for too long. The playfulness of their game and the teasing that followed had slipped away and Emma once again found herself grappling with the events of the evening, events she would very much rather not be thinking about now that she could feel the liquor pumping through her system and amplifying every sensation. While her eyes had wandered over the Queen's incredible figure her brain decided to remind her of the way Regina's mouth felt against hers, the way her tongue was warm and just wet enough as it ran along her lips, the way her teeth felt against tender skin. When the Queen caught her looking she knew she was blushing, it seemed all the blood in her body had gone to two specific places, her cheeks and distinctly lower, a heat blossoming from her abdomen and sliding down between her legs. There was nothing she could do to hide the redness on her face so instead she busied herself by polishing off her drink, only remembering that she'd decided it was to blame for her horrible state of arousal once she's swallowed the last drops. When she finally dared to look back up at the Queen she was surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, about last weekend. And about avoiding you since." It took Emma's sluggish brain a minute to catch up to the Queen's non-sequitur, eventually drawing up the reminder of a furious Queen with her hand clutching dangerously tightly at her heart deep within her chest.

"Oh, um...don't worry about. Really. It's fine."

"It's not fine, Emma." The Queen moved to sit next to her on the couch, a move so familiar that it still seemed surprising when done by a woman who, until very recently, had been trying to inflict nothing but damage upon Emma and everyone she loved. "Nothing about what I did was fine. I should never have attacked you like that. I had no right. You could have been killed. I could have killed you."

"But you didn't. I'm ok." Emma nudged the Queen's shoulder with her own, a knowing smile crossing her lips before she stage-whispered "You wouldn't have done it anyway."

"What?" The Queen looked almost offended that Emma would dare question her ability to maim and murder which only made Emma grin even more, her smile going a bit dopey in her now visibly drunken state. "I was seconds away from ripping your heart from your chest, I'll have you know! I have killed people for far less than the things you've done to me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. You're evil." Emma punctuated the word "evil" with exaggerated air quotes. "Very scary, big bag Queenie out to kill little ol' me. But here's the thing about you R'gina," her words were slurring around the edges now, the Queen realizing that what had been a nudge had turned into Emma leaning against her as she spoke. "You've had so many chances to kill me. Soooo many. But, aside from that thing with the turnover, you've never really acted on any of them. I don't think you really **want** to kill me. Actually, I think you kinda like having me around."

The Queen was about to argue this, to disagree strongly with Emma's implication that she was anything less than perfectly capable of destroying her, when Emma suddenly shifted positions and laid down on her back, her feet thrown over the higher end of the chaise and her head coming to lay in a cascade of blonde hair across the Queen's lap, her eyes sliding shut. Thoroughly without her permission her hands moved into Emma's hair, beginning to lightly scratch along her scalp and earning her a content little sigh from the other woman.

"I suppose I don't hate having you around. You're not the worst company in the world, and you certainly do keep things interesting what with your constant fumbling of even the most basic magical nuisance."

Emma cracked one eye open and gave an aggravated huff, pointing at herself and stating with extra emphasis,

"Former. Dark. One. Possessor of the evilest evil that ever eviled here lady, so how about we lay off the smug little digs about my abilities with magic?" the Queen rolled her eyes but held up her hands in surrender.

"Oh yes, right, how could I forget? You turned that walking ad for allergy medication into a statue for less than 48hrs, you are definitely the villain to be feared in this room." Though her tone was teasing, a haunted shadow crossed her face and, of course, Emma caught it, sitting up in a second and taking the Queen's hands in her own.

"You did horrible things, I know that. But you've done so much to atone for that and I know you, you're going to keep fighting to be better. You're not a villain, Regina. Not anymore."

"I'm not Regina."

"Yes you are. You are to me."

The Queen could feel the tears coming and, no matter how hard she fought them, she knew they were going to fall and so, to try to avoid them, she did the only other her mind wanted to do at that moment, the thing it had started screaming at her to do as soon as Emma had grabbed her hands and looked at her with **_that look_**. With only a breath's hesitation, and with hardly enough time for Emma to pull back even if she wanted to, the Queen moved forward and pressed her lips to Emma's in a kiss so forceful that it would have knocked the other woman over had the high backed end of the chaise not been there to catch her.

Immediately Emma's hands were in her hair and her lips were parting to allow the Queen's tongue to seek out the warmth of her mouth. The Queen deepened the kiss, pleased with Emma's enthusiasm, and before she knew it she was straddling Emma's hips (a true talent given how tight her dress was) as hands wandered from her hair to her waist and then slid themselves around to clutch possessively at her backside. It was only when a throaty moan burst from Emma's throat as she kneaded the supple flesh beneath her fingers did the Queen's lust-clouded mind snap back to reality and realize what she was doing. As quickly as the kiss started it ended with her shoving herself off of Emma, reeling at what she'd just done as she only just managed to stagger to her feet without getting tangled in her skirt.

"I can't. I just can't. I shouldn't have...I can't believe I just did that." Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, her hands coming up to drag through her usually flawless but now rather mussed hair.

"Regina it's ok. I'm just as much to blame for...that...as you are." Emma was clearly stunned and confused by the Queen's reaction, but she was doing what Emma always did and trying to keep her from blaming herself, from seeing herself as the one at fault. Unfortunately, she knew what she'd just done, felt the significance of it the moment their lips met, felt that peculiar something that she hadn't been able to put her finger on before suddenly slide into focus.

"No Emma, you don't understand. I took something that wasn't mine to take."

"What?" Emma wasn't even bothering to hide her confusion now, her head cocked to one side and her own flushed features making the way she was squinting her eyes look far too adorable.

"The **_kiss_**." The Queen was growing frustrated now, unable to comprehend why Emma wasn't more upset by what had just taken place. "I took that kiss and it wasn't mine to take. It should have been **_hers_**. Yours and hers. I took your first kiss and I can't give that back."

Emma's face, already red from the obviously aroused state she'd been in, went even redder and her eyes fell to her lap as she went completely still except for the fidgeting of her fingers. The Queen felt her heart sink, her emotions swinging from irritated and angry with herself to guilt-ridden and slightly panicked at how much she had clearly upset Emma. She stumbled over her words, trying to think of the right thing to say to make Emma look at her again.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Maybe I shouldn't make a big deal out of this. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I certainly didn't mean to put pressure on you or assume something about your relationship with Regina that I really have no place-"

"You didn't." Emma cut her off mid-ramble, still not looking at her, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I didn't what? Assume?"

"No," Emma's eyes rose from the floor just enough to peer up at her through her lashes, "You didn't take our first kiss. We kind of...that already happened."

"What? When?" The Queen was stunned, immediately wracking her brain and blasting through shared memories for a kiss that she had apparently forgotten when suddenly it dawned on her. "Tonight." Realization spread across her features and Emma looked like she wanted to find somewhere to hide. "That's why you showed up here the way you did. You kissed her and you...ran."

If it were possible to become one with the couch she was sure Emma would have done so (nevermind that it actually was possible if the damned woman would just put her mind to it and make use of her magic). The Queen deflated, slumping back down next to Emma and cradling her head in her hands.

"So what was I? Second best? A safe way to have your cake and eat it too?"

"What? No!" Emma looked horrified, her hand falling to the Queen's knee and squeezing. "Absolutely not. Look, I panicked. She asked me to kiss her and I didn't even think I just did it, she was so upset and I wanted to help and she asked and..." Emma's eyes unfocused, her mind clearly wandering back to the events in Regina's study earlier that night. The Queen watched with more than a little envy bubbling up from her gut as longing and tender care flitted across Emma's features. Emma's attention was drawn back to the present when they both looked down at the quivering of the hand on the Queen's knee, a quivering that quickly turned into a shake. Emma stared daggers at the offending appendage. "And then that fucking happened. My stupid hand just started fucking shaking and I had to get out of there."

"You ran because your hand was shaking?" It was the Queen's turn to be confused, unable to understand why Emma would be so embarrassed by a tremor she couldn't control that she would flee from someone who she clearly cared quite deeply about, who the Queen knew cared just as deeply for her.

"I ran because of what it means when my hand starts shaking. It's about my happiness, Regina. It does this when I think about my fucking future. It does this when happiness is right there in front of me." The Queen was still looking at her like she couldn't figure out what she was trying to say, or what it meant. Emma reached out and took the Queen's hand, placing it over her shuddering wrist and wrapping her fingers around the bones so she could feel the intensity of the quaking. Her voice was low and intense when she spoke again, it too having taken on a quiver as fear at what she was admitting crept up her throat.

"My happy ending. It get like this when my happy ending is right there, just waiting for me to reach out and take it, a reminder that I won't be able to hold on to it even if I grab on with everything I have. I kissed her and she kissed me back and I don't think it's ever been quite so bad as it was in that moment." Even just the memory of the kiss had Emma's whole arm starting to tremble, the vibrations forcing the Queen to fight to keep her own arm steady as she gripped Emma's wrist. Their eyes connected and the Queen could see tears in Emma's and she knew, deep down in her stupidly emotional heart, exactly what Emma was trying to say, and she felt that damned betrayer of an organ seize and stutter at the implications of it all.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She let go of Emma's wrist, moving her hand to twine their fingers together, allowing her thumb to draw patterns on Emma's palm until the tremors began to subside. Their eyes were locked and there was so much there, hanging in the air between them. The Queen could feel her heart pounding, her old instincts shouting at her to take what wasn't quite hers but could so easily be. She wanted to grab on to the feelings she saw in Emma's eyes and keep them for herself. She wanted all of that care, all of that need, all of that want and desire and lust and yes, even love, that was shining through the Savior's sea-colored orbs to be hers and hers alone. She wanted, for once, to win. When Emma whispered ,

"Regina" and began to move forward, gaze darting to her lips and tongue coming out to wet her own, it took everything in her, every ounce of goodness that Regina had crammed into her soul, to place her hand tenderly on Emma's chest and push her back.

"I'm not her, Emma. That kiss, it's meant for her."

"But you are her. You are literally half of who she is." Emma was exasperated, desperate for contact and connection, pushing against the Queen's hand still flat against her breast bone.

"I'm not. I don't know how to love yet, Emma. I want to, I have the knowledge of it because of her, because she gave it to me, but I'm not the woman you've grown to care for. I am not the woman you've stood side by side with, and fought with, and fought for. I am the woman who you hated when you first got here. I am every dark instinct your Regina's struggled against as long as you've known her. I am a woman who, had I gotten my hand around your heart when Regina's love was not already a part of me, would have crushed it without a second thought. I have her love inside me now, but it is not my love, not yet."

The raw honesty pouring forth with the Queen had Emma utterly speechless. Never before had Regina, in any of her forms, been so intensely open about her own shortcomings or her emotions, only once coming close in that ratty old apartment in New York the day before she'd made the choice to tear the Queen from her body. She knew the Queen was right, that in the end she and Regina were no longer two halves of a whole but truly two separate, if eerily similar, individuals. A sad smile crossed the Queen's face as she reached up and tucked several stray strands of Emma's hair behind her ear, allowing her hand to cup Emma's cheek gently for a moment before pulling away.

"Thank you for seeing so much of her in me. It makes me believe that maybe, if she could somehow earn a love like yours, I could one day do that too."

Emma's shoulders slouched and she folded in on herself.

"My love is no great shakes, but if it helps you see how amazing you are, I'm glad I could do that. Unfortunately all loving me would do is cause Regina pain. I'm probably going to die in a couple of weeks, I can't let her love me just to leave her like that."

"Oh you idiot. Are you truly as stupid as you're acting right now?" The Queen's words were biting but her fingers under Emma's chin were gentle as she pulled her head up to look her in the eye. "She already loves you, you unimaginable moron, and now you've already hurt her."

"I...what? I'm protecting her!"

"You kissed her, Emma. And if that kiss was anything like the one you gave me, you can bet your charming little brain that she knows how you feel about her. Do you know what a kiss like that does to a heart like mine? It gives it hope, Emma. Hope. And then you just vanished on her."

"...Oh..."

"Indeed." The Queen placed a gentle kiss to Emma's forehead, once again brushing the hair out of the other woman's face and smoothing it down behind her ears.

"She loves me?"

"She does."

"And I've messed it up already, huh?"

"You have. But worry not, if there's one thing I know she and I have 100 percent in common it is this: We love fully, with our whole heart, and once we love something we fight like hell for it. She'll forgive you, if you give her a reason to."

"Really?"

"Yes really."

"I guess I should probably go give her a reason then."

"Mmmhmm."

Emma stared at the Queen for another beat, her face had taken on a look that was somewhere between bashful and contemplative with just a tinge of nervous anxiety in the background. The Queen gave her a gentle shove, straightening her back and plastering on a smile that was far brighter than she felt (because, despite having been completely honest with Emma about who she was, she wanted so badly to be the one Emma loved).

"Go on you fool. Go get your Queen."

Emma blushed and stood, taking the Queen's prompting and shaking out her shoulders and body like a fighter getting ready to enter the ring.

"Ok, I got this." She turned to look back down at the Queen, her own smile less wide but full of hope. "You're sure this is a good idea? I really don't want to break her heart and I can't promise I'm going to win the fight I have coming for me."

"Good idea or not, it's too late to hope that by keeping your distance you can save her the devastation of your death. If that's the way things go her heart will break whether you let yourself love her or not."

"Gee, when you put it that way..." The Queen could see Emma's confidence wavering and so she stood and began physically ushering her towards the stairs that would lead her out of the vault.

"Go, Emma. Just go. Worry about all that later. You have apologies to make now."

"Fine, fine, I'm going!" Emma jumped to the side and up a couple of steps to avoid a jab to the ribs from the Queen's finger. She threw one last look over her shoulder at the Queen, now standing with her hands on her hips looking at Emma like she was a petulant child refusing to go to bed, before climbing the rest of the way up the steps.

She was almost to the door of the vault when she heard the Queen's voice call from below.

"Oh, and Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't break her heart."

"But you just said..."

"I know what I said. So don't let it happen."


	10. Chapter 10-1 Step Forward, 2 Steps Back

Halfway back to Regina's house Emma began to second guess the amount of alcohol she'd had that night. Between the beer at Regina's and the martinis with the Queen she was feeling far more intoxicated than she thought was wise considering that she was actually thinking of confessing her love to her best friend and potentially destroying everything they had if she did it wrong. What if Regina thought this was all just alcohol induced insanity? What if Regina hadn't meant it when she'd asked to be kissed? What if it was just a heat of the moment thing and the Queen was totally wrong about how Regina felt?

She was so consumed in her thoughts that she hardly realized how far she'd come until she passed Granny's and realized that, between the crisp night air, the walk, and her worries, she was starting to sober up and that had her thinking that maybe alcohol was exactly what she needed in order to follow through. She could feel her footsteps slowing, feel her nerves taking over, feel her heart thundering in her ears from the combination of anxiety and the obnoxious way her blood seemed to thicken the more her post-drunk pre-hangover state took over. Her fingers found their way to her lips, still able to feel way Regina's and the Queen's had felt pressed to her own, so similar and yet so different. Finally, deciding that she needed to make a move before she lost all courage to do so, she poofed from main street back into the study at the mansion.

The fire was still burning, the blanket she'd wrapped herself in earlier lay draped over the arm of the couch, and her shirt was on the floor where she'd dropped it in her haste to escape. Her beer bottle was still on the coffee table, a ring of condensation having collected around its base and she was glad she'd actually remembered to put in on a coaster. The room was silent, save for the occasional crack of the firewood and the quiet fluttering of the flames, and it was only after turning in a circle to take the whole room in that she noticed the wine colored stain dripping down the doorframe and the shards of Regina's glass now shattered across the floor. Regina herself was nowhere to be found and Emma realized that she somehow knew, could sense, that it wasn't just this room that was empty but the whole house. It would seem that Regina had taken Emma's running exactly as badly as the Queen said she would. Emma sighed, her shoulder slumping inward and her head falling to her chest, silently berating herself for the mess she'd made of all of this. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on that part of her that could feel that Regina wasn't here, hoping that maybe it could lead her to where she'd gone, but all she felt was an odd fuzziness that increased the harder she tried to track Regina's magic with her own until she was literally dizzy. Regina, it seemed, did not want to be found. At least not right now, and not by Emma.

* * *

When Regina materialized in her vault she found herself in a little used room in the furthest recesses of the underground hideaway. It was something of a bedroom, smaller than the other spaces and far less lavish than the rooms closer to the entrance. It held a twin bed, the wooden frame of which had been beautifully hand carved for her by her father as a gift for her 5th birthday, as well as other belongings from childhood, the few she'd managed to hang on to despite her mother's attempts to rip the sentimentality out of her wistful, dreamer of a daughter. Her blue riding jacket, the one she'd always favored and worn on many of her rendezvous with Daniel, the one she'd been wearing the fateful day she'd saved Snow from that runaway horse, hung on the back of the door to a simple wooden armoire that held within it other precious items; Rocinante's favorite saddle, a fairly simple white dress she'd always loved and had worn several times in the days leading up to her wedding just to annoy her mother ("A dress that plain is hardly fitting of a Lady in Waiting, nevermind a Queen, Regina." "Well maybe I'm hardly fit to be one then, Mother."), and a tiara tucked into a velvet lined box that she had loved dearly since she was just a little girl though at the time she couldn't figure out why it meant so much to her, only recently having been given back the memories of meeting Zelena as a child and playing dress up together with sparkling crowns on each of their heads.

She hadn't meant to end up in this room, it was one she hadn't entered in over 20 years, she had simply aimed for her vault with the intention of being alone and this was where she'd landed. She could see light under the door and knew immediately that the Queen must be "home", was likely locked away in the main chamber working diligently on the cure to the sleeping curse, her presence in the vault the reason Regina landed in this room where she knew the Queen would likely never set foot. She was about to settle down on the bed, to try to steady her heartbeat that had been thumping away erratically ever since Emma's lips at touched her own and attempt to sort out her feelings on what had just transpired between them, when she heard a crash from somewhere beyond the door followed by a few growled curse words that she couldn't quite make out. Deciding that it was best not to leave a raging recently ex-evil Queen to her own devices, she sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and pulled open the door in order to track down her other half.

When Regina found the Queen in the main room of the vault she was surprised to see no evidence that she'd been working on the curse at all, no potion vials were out, the small cauldron that rested on a pedestal was empty, no spell books lay open or out of place. Instead, the Queen was standing by a the large ornate mirror that hung on the far wall starring daggers at her own reflection with one hand pressed tightly to her breast bone and the other sitting on her hip, knuckles turning white with how hard she was pressing into her own flesh. There were fresh tear tracks on her cheeks and a shattered martini glass by her feet. Regina could feel her mouth tilting up into an amused smile at the similarities between her own expression of frustration and her counterpart's when she began to notice the finer details of the Queen's appearance and her heart skipped a beat as her smile froze on her face. The Queen's vibrant red lipstick was smeared over her slightly swollen lips and onto the skin of her cheek, her hair was frizzing just a bit and chunks were pulled from usually flawless placement as if by hands and fingers that had been clutching and tugging at it desperately, and there were handprints still visible in the unforgiving velour that hugged the Queen's backside. Instantly the hint of a smirk on her lips fell, her stomach and heart following it as the Queen looked up and caught her gaze in the mirror, her face coloring with shame the instant their eyes met.

"You have got to be kidding me." Regina sneered, magic beginning to spark between her fingers like tiny bolts of lightning without her even consciously drawing it forth.

"Regina wait," The Queen spun around, her hands rising defensively as she took a half step backwards towards the mirror, "It's not what it looks like."

A mirthless cackle sprung from Regina's throat as she spotted the other martini glass sitting on the table by the chaise, a glass that she was certain had been Emma's.

"Not what it looks like? You mean Emma wasn't here? That she didn't run straight from me to you? That you didn't share drinks and what, laugh at what a fool I am, what an idiot I am for believing in something more than lust? Tell me those hands that clutched your ass weren't hers. Tell me you can't still taste her on your lips." Regina's voice was a grating hiss and it was so much worse than if she'd been yelling, the deep hurt she was feeling slicing away at the Queen with every word. She was about to speak, to try to explain and apologize and god, somehow make this right despite feeling every bit like she deserved Regina's anger for daring to kiss Emma as she had, but she was too slow to find her words and the next thing she knew she was being dragged back against the cold glass of the mirror, shivering as the naked flesh of her back exposed by the cut of her dress came in contact with it, her arms and body held in place by the now magically controlled metal tentacles that usually fanned out from its frame harmlessly. Regina stalked towards her, the sway of her hips and fierceness burning from her narrowed eyes every bit the Evil Queen she no longer was and the Queen herself felt a deep fear spring forth from her gut at being faced with her own betrayal fueled anger. She tried to call her own magic to the surface but found, much to her horror, that the righteous indignation she so often relied on was gone, replaced by guilt and shame and she had no idea how to power her magic with those emotions.

"Tell me what you did. Did you seduce her? Did you see the state she was in, her confusion, and pounce on it? Did you take advantage of her desire?" Regina was a breath away now, her head tilting to one side as she traced the Queen's features with her eyes, reading her as easily as she could read herself, spotting something in the Queen's expression that had an incredible amount of pain mixing with the fury in her heart. "Or was it the other way around? Was she the one seducing you? Is one of us just as good as the other? Or maybe she likes you better because you're a simple fuck." The last word was spit out harshly, her fingers coming up to grip the Queen's chin with unforgiving strength. "She can get what she wants from you, can't she? She can have your body without the pesky danger of your heart getting involved because we both know you wouldn't know how to love her even if you tried."

"Regina stop, listen-" The Queen's meager attempt at calming Regina was cut off completely when Regina's lips suddenly slammed into her own in a kiss so full of hatred that in nearly made her gag. Regina pressed on, clamping her teeth down on the Queen's lower lip and holding it in place while she ran her tongue along it before releasing her and staggering backwards. There were so many emotions dancing across her face, from grief to digust to heartbreak to sorrow, her hands coming up to cover her own mouth as she continued to stumble backwards. When her gaze met the Queen's again, as the grip of the mirror loosened finally and allowed her to pull away from it, it spoke volumes, an apology mixed with pure self-loathing. Her voice was barely a whisper when it managed to escape from between her fingers.

"I can feel her on you. I can't believe this is happening. But I shouldn't be surprised it's what I would have done."

And with that she was gone, vanishing in a haze of purple before the Queen could say another word.

Without a second thought the Queen raised her arms in a flourish and was swept away on her own purple cloud, determined to get to Emma before Regina could. She had to make sure Emma knew what was coming if she had any hope of stopping this disaster from getting any worse.


End file.
